


Command the Moon, It Will Come Down

by Queenspuppet



Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Practical Magic Fusion, Darcy and Jane are Witches, Except kind of powers, F/M, Johnny is a Glassblower, Natasha is a Ghost, Tarot, Thor is a Marine Meteorologist, Witchcraft, childhood bullying, something like soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-11-29 23:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 86,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11450877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenspuppet/pseuds/Queenspuppet
Summary: Darcy Lewis, aka 'one of those Romanova witches out on the cliff' lives on Swans Island and has been dreaming of Johnny Storm and his warm hands since she was twelve years old.If only he wasn't such a horrible ass.





	1. Prologue: A Fairytale Begins Sadly

_ If I command the moon, it will come down; and if I wish to withhold the day, night will linger over my head; and again, if I wish to embark on the sea, I need no ship; and if I wish to fly through the air, I am freed from my weight. _

  * Thesselian Witch Tract



 

July 13 th , 1996

 

Darcy played with the starched lace of her skirt, catching bitten nails on frayed strands. She could feel her Aunt Natasha’s careful fingers combing through the curls at the back of her head before the sea wind whipped through the cemetery, ruffling them again. She chewed the inside of her lip and watched the dark casket sink into the earth. Her cousin, Jane, sniffled and wiped her cheeks on the other side of their Aunt.

 

Which Darcy didn’t understand. Because it wasn’t  _ Jane’s  _ mother in that casket.

 

Darcy hadn’t even known she had a cousin.

 

She hadn’t known she had an Aunt Natasha either.

 

There were lots of things about Swans Island she didn’t understand.

 

Like why everyone kept saying, ‘Oh, another poor little Romanova girl come back to roost.’ Darcy wasn’t a Romanova. She was a Lewis.

 

Or why there were so many strangers at her mother’s funeral, and none of them looked very sad.

 

Or why Aunt Natasha had said they’d come to see if the earth spit her mother back out again.

 

_

 

Aunt Natasha carried Darcy back to house in her arms because Darcy’s shiny black shoes were pinching her toes. Darcy could see Jane following behind, barefoot with her own shoes clasped in her hands, eyes still red from tears.

 

“Why was she crying?” Darcy whispered into her Aunt’s red curls.

 

“She is missing her own mother,” the woman answered.

 

“Your sister,” Darcy said.

 

“My niece,” Aunt Natasha said. “Like your mother. I am your Great Aunt.” She bounced Darcy in her strong arms and waggled her eyebrows, coaxing a tiny smile from the girl.

 

“Why did they send me here?” Darcy asked.

 

“It was in your mother’s will.”

 

“Why didn’t she tell me about you? About Jane?”

 

“Your mother, and Jane’s mother, and their own mothers thought that living away from here, away from our family, would be best for themselves and for you,” Aunt Natasha said.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because we are cursed, malen’kaya ved’ma,” she said, and then added. “With a gift.”

 

Darcy’s eyes stretched wide and her mouth hung open as she thought this through. “Gifts can’t be curses,” she said.

 

“Gifts are curses,” Aunt Natasha said gently. “Curses make you special, and gifts set you apart. They are cut from the same cloth.”

 

Darcy set her chin down on the older woman’s shoulder.

 

“We’ll have brownies for supper, what do you think?” Aunt Natasha asked.

 

“I like brownies,” Darcy said, head still heavy with this new terrible thing. A curse. Her mother was dead and she was cursed.

 

_

 

Jane and Darcy ate the brownies, still warm in the pan, until their small bellies were ready to burst with the sweetness.

 

Jane took Darcy by the hand, out to the warm garden where the fireflies glittered and taught her to make a flower crown. They ran through the rows of roses until their nice dresses were snagged and the lace shredded. Darcy felt wild, and sharply aware of the events of the day, and briefly light and free from the loss of her mother. The white house on the cliff could not be a real place, to bright and full of strange things, where brownies were for supper and people came to visit her aunt, very late at night.

  
When the sugar wore off, her stomach turned and the house was gray and her mother was  _ gone _ . Darcy and Jane ran back to the house crying, hand in hand, where Aunt Natasha was ready with firm arms to hold them both against her until their tears ran dry and they fell asleep.

 

 

 

* * *

 

AN: I am ahead of my writing schedule and I'm posting this a day early with the first chapter to follow before the end of the day! Thank you to JanetSnakehole for your magical beta skills! I came back and played with this a little more and all remaining mistakes are mine. Thank you everyone who came to check this out, and who expressed excitement at the idea. And thanks to sachertortes for giving me a wonderful plot bunny when you mentioned wanting to see a Darcy & Jane / Practical Magic mash up in your Not Exactly Oscar Material notes. (THAT STORY IS GOOOOOOD.)

Next up: 1. A Storm Gathers

Hope you enjoy! <3

 

malen'kaya ved'ma = little witch


	2. 1. A Storm Gathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A history of bad weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheee! Now to really get moving. Forever and ever thanks to bae beta JanetSnakehole. Again, I did tweak things after and all remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Keep an eye on the dates!

October 8 th , 2000

 

“Why did my mother die?” Darcy asked. 

 

She’d found Aunt Nat in the kitchen after midnight. Or Aunt Nat had anticipated Darcy’s late night visit to the kitchen. Four years into life on Swans Island and Darcy had yet to know if her Aunt didn’t sleep at all, or simply had (another) supernatural ability to tell when a young girl might need to talk. Over a plate of muffins. Which she and Aunt Nat would surely pay for eating early by the wrath of a teenage Jane in the morning.

 

Darcy watched her Aunt’s careful hands break off the top of the muffin, revealing the soft, still melty, chocolate chips inside. 

 

“Believe it or not, malen’kaya ved’ma, but when I was a girl, Romanova girls were treated even worse on this island than they are now,” Nat said before taking a large bite. Her elbows rested on the counter next to where Darcy sat perched, legs tapping against the cabinet doors.

 

Darcy wrinkled her nose. Earlier that day she’d been chased across the playground by awful Caleb Carver and his pack of rabid classmates as they shook handfuls of stones and flicked them at the back of her ankles as she ran.  She found a hiding spot behind a utility door and chanted a little invisibility charm to herself.  _ I am small, I am quiet, I am insignificant, I am unseen. _ While she hid she thought of what her Aunt Nat might have done, imagined turning around on the playground stones and stirring up a wind to blow all her terrorizers to the ground. Imagined casting them to sleep so she could have  _ one _ afternoon of peace.

 

“My sisters left the island, lived lives that didn’t belong to them. Normal lives. They came back, eventually, after my nieces were born and grown, but it was late and they were already sick. Your mother, Jane’s mother, visited too when they got sick, but it’s not this house that keeps us well. It is our gift,” Aunt Natasha said, waving a pale hand in front of the small candle in it’s holder. Flame flared to life and then died out again as her hand drew back to her muffin.

 

“Our curse,” Darcy echoed.

 

“You leave a gift untouched, it spoils, turns to rot,” she said. “And that rot will spread.”

 

“Our mothers died because they were not witches,” Darcy said. “I  _ have _ to be a witch.” The muffin turned to glue in her mouth. She thought occasionally–and only sometimes, because Aunt Natasha and Jane were  _ everything _ to her, but sometimes–of  _ not  _ being a ‘Romanova’ girl. But this was out of the question.

 

“No, my little darling,” Aunt Natasha said, smoothing her fingers through Darcy’s curls. “You  _ are _ a witch. Your mother was a witch. But witches must make magic.”

  
  
  


May 15 th , 2017

 

Darcy came in through the greenhouse after closing the shop that evening, canvas straps of grocery bags digging into her shoulders. She plucked a jasmine blossom off her favorite plant and cupped it to her face to sniff. Jane was in the kitchen, hair frizzing out of her ponytail as the black pot on the stove steamed in her face. Joni Mitchell was on the stereo.

 

“ _ She’s gotten into tarot cards and potions, she’s laying her religion on her friends. _ ”

 

“I don’t like this song,” Darcy said.

 

Jane startled over the stove, and Darcy couldn’t tell if she was surprised to see her back from the market, or surprised to hear the music.

 

“The wood sorrel outside needs looked at,” Darcy added.

 

Jane wrinkled her nose. “Fussy plants. That one never liked me. Nat was better with the wild ones.”

 

“Like us,” Darcy agreed and Jane smiled. 

 

“Did you hear the news?” They said at the same time.

 

Darcy huffed and hefted her bags onto the counter. “Damn. I thought I got that one first.”

 

“Maria Hill called.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Some people here like me,” Jane quipped.

 

“What?! Why?!” Darcy teased, arranging the grapefruits and lemons together into a bowl.

 

“I think it has to do with Thor actually,” Jane said drily. “I think she was calling to see if he was back. She asked if you were home too.”

 

Darcy snorted. “She probably wanted to strike the blow first. Unfortunately for her, absolutely everyone at the market took special care to tell me You-Know-Who was moving back to the island.”

 

Jane hummed sympathetically and then lifted a sodden sack of herbs up out of the pot. Darcy took a sniff. Rosemary, rose, rose geranium…power, peace, protection.

 

“You have a theme going there. Are you worried about us?”

 

“Just stocking up,” Jane said. She glanced at Darcy over her shoulder and Darcy could feel the stare on her back. After a pause she added, “It’ll be good for the island.”

 

Darcy snorted. “What good has Johnny Storm ever done for anyone?”

 

“People will come to see his studio, to see him work. Glass blowing is very popular and he’s pretty trendy, according to Maria.”

 

“Swans Island is fine,” Darcy said, waving a hand. “We have…lobsters. And, you know, scenery and hiking and stuff.”

 

“And a locally renowned fortune teller,” Jane said.

 

Darcy bit her lip to stifle her annoyance. But it was true. While the locals might not  _ like _ Darcy and Jane, they loved referring tourists to the island witches on the cliff. And Darcy made good money on those tourists. Something she would be sure to forget to thank the townie assholes for later.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jane said after Darcy’s silence. “He was awful to you.”

 

“Mrs. Humphrey wants another baby,” Darcy said, hoping to steer the conversation away from her old aches. “Let’s have some of those carrot muffins ready.”

 

“So she can show up tonight and you can do that thing where you have it ready at the door, and make them think you can read their minds cause you’re psychic?”

 

“I  _ am _ psychic,” Darcy said, feigning offense. “And I don’t need to read their minds. No one on this island can keep their mouth shut. I know exactly what they think of me.”

  
  


Late Summer, 2002

 

The summer before seventh grade Darcy dreamt of a tall, tall boy with the warmest hands that glowed with life. She dreamt of the fall of his pale eyelashes on his cheek, the cracking hiccup of his laugh, the knuckles of his fingers all nicked and scraped and scratched red. She dreamt of him standing between her and the rest of the school, the island, bright and shining and safe. She dreamt of covering his skin in marks for protection, for care, for healing.

 

Natasha called these dreams  _ pesnya dushi _ or soul songs. A melody for her heart to follow in finding the perfect match. At twelve, Darcy was obsessed with love magic. She swooned over the women who came to the house, tear streaks on their cheeks and wild-eyed, begging Natasha for answers in the cards or potions to warm a reluctant heart. Natasha refused the latter but Darcy made them little trinkets of flowers and string and shells she’d picked off the shore. Natasha said the charms were stronger than a little girl had any right to weave a spell, but were safe from working any manipulative magic, so she let the women take them home.

 

On the first day of school Darcy saw him at the end of the hall. He was tall, tall, tall. Almost twice her height. His hands and elbows were scabbed brown. His hair was a terrible electric kool-aid orange, too loud for the slow changing island, too noticeable. His cheeks were streaked red as people passed him in the narrow hall, as smaller boys shoved against his side and hissed 'flame on, dumbass' and 'move, matchstick.'

 

Darcy watched him from her little locker by the drinking fountain and felt like her whole world had turned into a kind of symphony. The girls giggles and squeals were the woodwinds, the boys cracks and cackles the brass section. Her heart was thrumming like a hundred violins, bows vibrating in the air together. And as he walked down the hall, every step was the drop of a mallet on a big bass drum in Darcy's head until he continued right by her and into the office.

 

Darcy found him in English. The teacher made him stand and introduce himself.

 

“‘M Johnny Storm,” the class snickered as he continued, “’n I'm from Long Island.” He mumbled through the words, blue eyes staring down at the bright toes of his new sneakers.

 

“Go ahead and take a seat behind Darcy Ro-Lewis,” the teacher said.

 

Johnny Storm's eyes widened, their color turning sharper and more brilliant, as he walked up the aisle to the desk at Darcy's back. She smiled, and her body tingled like the fireflies lighting up the yard in July as she stared back at him. The room was quiet but Darcy could feel that music rushing through her blood.  _ This is a soul song _ , she thought.  _ Here is my match. _

 

She twisted in her chair as he crumpled down into his desk, knees knocking into the frame of his seat. His face was red, clashing with the awful soda pop orange of his hair, and his gaze was startled as he looked back at her.

 

“You’re hair looks cool,” Darcy said, smiling, wanting to reach out and slip her hand into his, feel the warmth she knew was radiating there like a sunburn.

 

He blushed darker, eyes skidding around the room as all the nearest faces watched them, waiting. “Shuddup about my hair,” he hissed.

 

The teacher cleared his throat and Darcy jumped and twisted back around, a wave of queasy unhappiness crashing around in her gut, swirling up into her chest.

 

“Witch,” she heard him mutter.

 

He’d already heard. Aching fissures of pain spread through her chest. Before she could even say hello, he’d heard about her. And from  _ them _ . The fissures filled with ice. She didn’t hear another sound, not a word from her classmates or teachers, or a single note of music, until the day was almost over.

 

That night she thought maybe she had said the wrong thing too. She had only wanted to undo the insults from the others, wanted to show him that it wasn't the whole island who disliked strangeness and newness. But maybe he didn’t want to be defended. She would try again. Something smaller.

 

But a week later Johnny Storm had rinsed all the color out of his hair and joined forces with Caleb Carver. Darcy's locker was full of slimy toads Monday morning. She carried them out to a nice shady spot outside and told the toads, and herself, that Johnny Storm didn’t deserve to share a soul song with her.

 

But the dreams kept coming.

 

June 9th, 2017

 

Darcy never understood why people thought their house on the cliff was haunted. Because the Romanova women were witches? What did that have to do with ghosts? Ghosts hung around for unfinished business, or too much stubborn resentment. Just old energy that couldn’t wash out of a place. But witches took care of their shit  _ before _ dying.

 

When Darcy had arrived, six years old and freshly orphaned, she thought the house looked like a place out of a fairy tale, not a horror story. Traveling by boat to a little island off the coast of Maine and moving into a beautiful white house with shutters and porches and towers and a greenhouse in the back that glittered in the sun? Being surrounded by wild gardens and stone paths, flowers blooming right to the edge of the cliff over the sea? It  _ sounded _ like something from a fairy tale. She’d stood at the edge of the white gate lined with big, black hollyhocks, stunned out of the frightened tears she’d been dripping since a social worker had explained that she’d be leaving Virginia (and her home and her school and her friends). Darcy wondered if this was the part where they put her in the attic and made her do chores.

 

But Aunt Natasha was decidedly  _ not _ the wicked witch of stories. She wasn’t Glinda either. She was beautiful with hair the fire red like Darcy’s mother (with added streaks of ash) and she was quiet, voice like a purr. She let Darcy pick her own room and then lock herself in it to cry for a day. The next day she and Jane lured a rumpled little Darcy out of the room with the promise of an actual tea party, with tiny sandwiches and mismatched dishes in the garden. Tea time was a regular affair at the house on the cliff and on the first day Jane taught Darcy where to find the wild strawberries growing and how to stain her cheeks with flowers.

 

Now, of course, the house  _ was _ technically haunted. But Darcy didn’t think Natasha would appreciate being called a ghoul or a poltergeist or anything like that. And while she did still reside in the house out of stubbornness, Darcy suspected it was a stubborn love. For the house, and for Jane and herself.

 

Jane left after dinner to fill orders at their shop, The Lab, an organic health and beauty shop. (The storefront did good business in the busy months of the island, but the online orders came in year round and kept the pair of them comfortable and the property taxes paid.) Darcy cleared away the dishes, and then went up to Natasha's room. She knocked three times and opened the door. The spinning wheel in the corner was turning, the pedals pumping, wool tangling on the twirling flyer.

 

“You’re making a mess,” Darcy said to the room.

 

_ The muffins worked. Mrs. Humprey’s pregnant again. She'll need knot magic, something simple, but it won't be an easy pregnancy _ , Natasha said. 

 

Darcy could see a red streak of her hair out of the corner of her eye, and smelled the same perfume Natasha had worn as long as Darcy knew her, black tea and roses. She closed her eyes and Natasha grew clearer in the dark space behind her eyelids, hovering just over her shoulder, warm and curious gaze on her cheek.

 

“I’ll spin something pink,” Darcy said aloud. “She’s overrun with boys.”

 

_ Just make it strong _ , Natasha said. Her voice was half there, more rushes of air and creaks of floorboard than words but Darcy had memorized every note of Natasha while growing up and her voice had clean edges and the same purring, sliding speech in Darcy’s thoughts.

 

Darcy just wanted a minute like this, with Natasha near, talking together about how to approach a bit of magic. If Jane had been in the room everything would have been perfect.

 

_ How do you feel? _ Natasha asked.

 

Darcy's eyes blinked open.

 

_ He's back today. _

 

“Oh! Not you too!” Darcy was half tempted to stomp her way out of the room.

 

_ I'm checking in. _

 

Darcy’s chest twinged with old pain. This was the family pass-phrase, the secret code for Natasha to worm her way into any one of their conflicts, used most often in Jane's teen years and when Darcy left for college. ‘Checking in’ was a promise not to interfere, but a demand for the sharing of information and feelings. 

 

“It was a long time ago,” Darcy said. “He wasn’t what I thought. What we thought. And it’s not his return that bothers me. Just that the whole island seems excited to see him come back and...and what, torment me again? For us to politely ignore each other because we're adults now?”

 

_ Fall in love _ , Natasha said.

 

“Don’t do that,” Darcy whispered. “Don’t do that again.”

 

She left the room with a stroke of her hand over the door frame.

 

The phone was ringing downstairs and Darcy ran to answer it. Cell service was spotty by the cliff so either Jane was trying to reach her or...

 

“Lewis?”

 

“Hey, Tony,” Darcy said into the phone. 

 

“Lewis, I got a bachelorette party of eight staying at the big house and they're drinking me out of stock. Sending ‘em down to you.” Tony Stark was sharp, efficient, but he was that way with everyone and not just the Romanova women, and he ran several of the most successful local business on the island so efficiency was probably a useful tool.

 

“Oh, gee. Thanks so much. I love cleaning upchucked vodka tonics out of the carpet,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes.

 

“I quoted them eighty bucks a pop.”

 

_ Well _ , thought Darcy,  _ that changes things _ . “Tell them they can have a group rate of six hundred.”

 

“Aren’t we generous?” Tony said and she could hear the smirk. Seventy-five was still high over her usual tourist rate of fifty.

 

“And tell Happy I'll have some brownies ready for him,” Darcy added, because if Tony sent Happy to drive then the women would actually make it to the house and back again in good shape.

 

“He better share,” Tony muttered and then hung up.

 

Darcy hurried to set up, swinging the sunroom windows out over the rose bushes so that the smell of herbs drying from the ceiling beams mixed with the wet earth outside and the garden in full bloom. She lit candles and set them on top of glass cupboards full of old family books, bells and ceremonial knives, candles and scrying stones, and the Romanova collection of tarot cards. She brought extra chairs to fill the space and centered her own wicker throne-like seat at the low table. She hesitated at the cupboard of  _ her _ tools; tea sets used only for reading leaves, her own personal decks, cleansing quartz, and a beautiful old, hand carved, talking board with its glossy pointer, the ghosts of past fingertips worn into the polished wood.

 

Darcy liked her decks best, but tarot cards didn't like to lie and a bachelorette party didn't want to hear about their tough decisions regarding work, or how they were emotionally stifling themselves at home. And for seventy-five bucks a person Darcy wanted to give the women a bit of a show, if not a few dick jokes. So she laid out a tablecloth embroidered with the constellations of Maine at winter, pulled out the tea set for leaves, a perfumed oil for massaging and reading palms, and her least severe deck that was based off the kamasutra. She went back to the kitchen to grab a strong black tea and some munchies– _ the better to sober you up, my dear _ –and the door knocker clacked in the hall.

 

Either Happy had sped his little shuttle bus all the way up here or business was going to be hopping tonight.

 

Grace Harper was standing on her front steps, little red sedan parked under the border oak at the gate. Her blond hair was tangled into a perky top knot, mascara just slightly smeared under her eyes.

 

“Grace. Hi. I have a party coming up to the house–” Darcy said, skipping politeness and aiming straight for dismissal. She knew exactly why Grace was here at ten at night smelling like a bottle of white wine.

“That’s fine, it won't take long,” Grace said breezily, stuffing a small handful of bills into Darcy's raised palm and pushing past her into the house, heading for the sunroom.

 

“You heard already?” Grace asked, a dark smile appearing on her face before it slipped and fell to one side.

 

“Storm is back, yeah,” Darcy said, hands on her hips and stalling in the doorway, hoping she could still get Grace to leave. “You must be thrilled.” Would outright rudeness do the trick?

“Never shoulda married Mark in the first place,” Grace said, flopping down into Darcy's seat for reading fortunes. “Fucking waste of my twenties.”

 

_ Wow _ , Darcy thought.  _ That was a pretty big jump _ . _ ‘High school boyfriend is back. Good thing I got a divorce this year.’ _

 

“I guess you knew he was coming.” Grace’s eyes were narrowed. She crossed her legs and glared up at Darcy before leaning to the table, flicking at the items Darcy had laid out, grabbing a peanut butter pretzel as Darcy set the bowl down.

 

“Dreaded,” Darcy said and Grace just blinked.

 

_ She's still pretty _ , Darcy thought.  _ Bitter, and trapped on this island in her mom's old real estate company, wondering about all the other lives she might have lead by now. But pretty. _

 

“I like these,” Grace said flipping through the explicit illustrations of the cards Darcy had set out. “Ooh, did that with Johnny!”

 

She flashed Darcy a picture of a man getting a blow job. Was she meant to be impressed?

 

“Johnny had the best dick,” Grace said, sighing.

 

“He shared it liberally,” Darcy said, grabbing a traditional deck from the cupboard. 

 

Lying to tourists to give them news they wanted to hear was part of the job, a bonus for the extra charge. Darcy never lied to locals. Let them hear the good and the awful, what did she care? They kept coming back. And Grace Harper, who from the age of eleven to twenty three insulted Darcy to her face and then said ‘JK’ with that mincing little smirk? Yeah. She deserved the truth. Darcy couldn't hear the letters JK without wanting to punch someone.

 

“Jealous you never got a taste?” Grace asked.

 

Darcy wrinkled her nose and shuffled the deck in her hands, a nicked and faded old set from when she'd first learned to read the cards.

 

“I want these,” Grace said holding up the kamasutra deck.

 

“Those are for the tourists,” Darcy said, still shuffling. “These are real.”

 

This seemed to appease Grace, who left the other deck–which was fine, and anyway it was Darcy doing the heavy lifting–on the table and settled back into the chair.

Darcy cut the deck into three piles, and Grace, who'd done this a fair number of times for someone who clearly didn't even like Darcy, tipped forward in the chair, her finger landing on the far right pile. Darcy restacked the cards and snapped five out onto the wood in a small arch in front of her. She turned them over one by one.

Five of Cups

The Lovers, reversed

Three of Cups, reversed

Ten of Swords

The Devil

It wasn't good news for Grace. Darcy rattled off the textbook definitions of the cards like a novice, trying to keep the mood clinical. Normally she would have interpreted the contents into a clearer picture, given history and context and insight. She would have told Grace that Johnny Storm had never been the whirlwind romance she'd fashioned in her memory, just a young man burning energy and having his way with the world. That he hadn't thought of her much when they were together and less after they parted. That the fantasy she'd arranged around him, now more than ever, was preventing progress in her life. That Johnny Storm would take less notice of her in the future than he ever had in the past.

 

She had a pit in the bottom of her stomach by the end of the reading, as she always did when delivering bad news, and she felt almost sorry for Grace. She knew exactly how dreaming that Johnny Storm was a better version of himself could sting. She did it on a semi-regular basis, even if it was involuntary and unconsciously done. Here was something else Johnny had ruined too, Darcy's ability to enjoy Grace Harper's disappointment. Schadenfreude was seventy-five percent of Darcy's entertainment on the island and Grace Harper had been a thorn in her side since grade school.

 

But now she was wilting in Darcy's chair, eyes focused through the sunroom walls out over a history of romantic failures, her lips creased in a stubborn purse.

 

“Do you want coffee?” Darcy asked, because expressing sympathy seemed impossible and also like she'd be twisting the knife.

 

Grace's face twisted into a snarl. “Don’t pity me, Romanova,” she said standing, then leaning too far to the left before recovering, her feet slapping hard against the floorboards as she stumbled away to the hall, out to the front door. Darcy could hear a crunch of gravel and a low bass thumping.

 

“You can’t fucking walk around this island like you’re doing so much better than the rest of us. You’re a college drop out for chrissake and you, what? Read  _ fortunes _ for a living? Do you honestly think you're a fucking witch?”

 

Darcy took a moment to digest the flurry of accusations in the muddled sentences. 

 

“Do you?” she asked. It was a puzzle she’d struggled with for decades. Did the town think she was crazy? Or were they scared of her? Grace Harper didn't just come up to the house for chintzy fortunes. If she didn't think Darcy was a witch, why stand in the snow outside their greenhouse door and beg for a spell to save her marriage.

 

“He won’t want you either,” Grace said, looking near to sick, tilting forward and scuffing at Natasha’s old rug in the entry hall.

 

Darcy opened the front door. Happy had arrived and was helping escort eight tottering women in wedge heels across the stone steps in her yard.

 

“I was glad to see the back of Johnny Storm,” Darcy said. “That’s the truth.” 

 

Grace's face was blank as she stood in the doorway, looking at the women in sundresses, the small redhead with her plastic crown and pink rhinestone  _ Bride _ sash across her chest.

 

“Night, Darcy,” she said, like she hadn't just been stumbling through cuss words and vague insults. 

 

_ You're fucking crazy...JK _ .

 

“Goodnight, Grace,” Darcy said. She was happy to see the back of her, too.

The bachelorette party was a fun group. They cracked jokes with Darcy over the cards and the tea leaves, ate three bowls of snacks, and paid extra for fresh love charms that Darcy made from roses in the garden, wild grapevine, and red candle wax. Jane came home, took a shot with the bride and gave her a large phallic candle but warned her that it was meant for fertility. Happy only saved one brownie for Tony.

 

Darcy fell into bed and dreamt of warm hands with hard callouses pressing into the soles of her feet and working away the ache of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. No offense intended to any kamasutra deck owners! It actually looks like a really lovely deck but I wrote it in before fact checking myself sooo...  
> 2\. Swans Island is a real place but I am taking vast and unapologetic liberties with it.  
> 3\. Song playing in the kitchen is Roses Blue by Joni Mitchell and a less generous lyric send off to witches.  
> 4.Thank you so so much for the response already!! Actual Johnny Storm content coming up in the next chapter which is titled....
> 
> Johnny, Be Good
> 
> (har har, I love puns) I'll have that up late next week. For now, leave me some sugar! <3


	3. 2. Johnny, Be Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy is back in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH FLAIL! You guys, you are crazy awesome wonderful and I am tickled every shade of pink from your response. I totally meant to have a longer break between posting, but I have another chapter in the dock so WHY NOT cause I'm super excited.
> 
> This chapter came together entirely thanks to the help of two awesome ladies: JanetSnakehole, of course, for her beta babe skills. And bloomsoftly for rescuing my butt when I was wallowing with uncertainty about these two awkward turtles. She is a mutual pine master and her amazing stories have ALL THE FEELS so you should go read them. Now.

June 10 th , 2017

 

She thought she'd have more time. A small, hopeful part of her wondered if it would be possible to live her life on the island without ever running into him. If they had to, they could work out a schedule. Darcy would stay out of town in her free time if he'd stay away while she was working at The Lab.

 

But instead he showed up the next morning, with the jangle of a string of bells over the door and a flash of sun bouncing off a passing car that hit Darcy directly in the eye while she was stocking the shelves.

 

“Can I help you?” Darcy asked, wincing at the glare.

 

“Lewis,” he said, the exact pitch and resonance of his voice so familiar from so many years of dreams.

 

He sounded winded and Darcy nearly dropped the jar she was holding to the floor.

 

“Oh. It’s you.” She turned back the shelf, adding as an afterthought, “Welcome back.”

 

“Thanks! It’s good to be back,” the words were rushed and automatic. Outside, on the street, the traffic was turning into an orchestra. The fan overhead was humming in shifting tones.

 

Darcy put the last new jar in its place and went looking for the burn salve. She took care not to turn to the door. She'd seen a glimpse of wiry muscles under a threadbare T-shirt, and tan knees peeking out of ripped jeans. It was enough. Johnny Storm was here and Jane hadn't got out of bed yet and she couldn't just walk out of the shop. A cluster of gulls settled on a roof across the street and started singing.

 

“I didn't know you worked here,” he said, still hovering at the door. “Everyone said you were up at the house...you know.”

 

“Being a witch?” Darcy supplied. She grabbed a jar of burn salve. “Jane is a genius but she can't organize for shit.” She heard him laugh but refused to look. In her dreams a little scar on his right cheek dimpled when he smiled now. 

 

“Here.” She passed him at the door, dropping the salve into his hands where they’d been shifting over his narrow hips, folding together, twitching through his sun bleached hair. He caught the jar, just barely.

 

“Oh. Oh! Hey, thanks. The stuff I have barely works.”

 

“This will,” Darcy said, sliding onto her stool behind the counter. She pulled out the accounts like now was a good time to worry about numbers. She wished the music in her head would stop.

 

“I don't doubt Jane. Or you!” he added in a rush. “I don't doubt either of you.”

 

Darcy swallowed and looked up. Her heart thumped in time and his eyes stretched wide, gaze skittering around the room. He had a sunburn over his nose and cheeks and it made his eyes look almost pool blue, electric and vivid. His hair was lighter than before and his face was wider and stronger, and the lines of his shoulders inside the wide v-neck of his shirt were sharp and tanned. She looked back to the book on the counter and the numbers had transformed into a foreign language.

 

“Jane’s not here,” Darcy said after a pause. An e-brake on a delivery truck trilled from the road. “If that's why you came.”

 

“Uh, um no. Well kinda,” he said. He reached to scratch his head again, and bumped the jar against his forehead. “Shit. Um. I came to, to ask Jane about you.”

 

“About me?”

 

“Yeah. To see if you'd maybe like coffee. To get coffee. With me?”

 

“You wanted to ask Jane if I would like to get coffee with you?” Darcy said, glancing up. Her voice was flat, even, and she was half-afraid to make any sound at all. That it might be a scream or laughter or tears.

 

“Uhhh….” He was wearing a painfully flustered smile hidden under a large, calloused and scarred hand. “Yeah. Look.” He set the jar on the counter and wrapped his hands around the edge of the counter, bracing himself and making Darcy look down again. “I know… I know I was an asshole to you in high school.”

 

“And middle school.” The words fell out of her mouth.

 

“Yeah,” he said grimacing. “Definitely then too. And I just... I came to ask Jane if she thought you might... Let me apologize?”

 

“Apologize?”

 

“Lew-Darcy. I'm sorry, really sorry, for... for all of it. That's not the end of the apology, I swear,” he said as she open her mouth to speak. “It’s more than that. And you deserve an explanation, I guess, no, I mean you do. I was crap, and I know it. I knew it.”

 

“And you want to apologize?”

 

“I  _ want _ to erase what I said and what I did. I have for a long time. I know that I can't but I wish that it...that it wasn't a part of...of how we, you know, talk and...interact and stuff. From now on. So. So...can I–could I buy you a coffee and we could maybe talk?”

 

Darcy felt like she was under water. Everything but Johnny Storm was blurry, out of focus. All the sounds and music had hushed but his voice, deep and strangely fragile. Was it his nerves or was he usually this soft spoken? She learned as a teenager not to compare the Johnny from the dreams to the Johnny in real life. But this felt…dangerously close.

 

“I just would like to start over,” he said, every word slow, eyes some wild blue and caught so strongly to hers she felt snared in a trap.

 

“No.” She whispered it, and for a moment nothing changed, not the earnest, hopeful look in Johnny's eyes, or the way he leaned towards her across the counter.

 

Then the little word sunk in.

 

He swallowed and she watched his adam's apple bob in his throat. Then he blinked a few times and pushed away from the counter, turning his side to her and staring down at the floor. He nodded his head once, then again after a pause. His mouth twisted and Darcy's stomach turned.

 

“Right,” he said, soft and catching. “Right. Yeah.”

 

Darcy had the urge to apologize, explain, protest. This wasn't fair. Johnny Storm couldn't just pop in after more than ten years with an apology on his tongue and a look in his eyes that she'd yearned for as a teenage girl and just erase the names he'd called her and the bruises he'd unknowingly left on her heart. 

 

One short, coughing laugh escaped his throat and he ran a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he said, half-smiling and barely glancing at her. “Yeah. That's fair. I'll...I'll go–”

 

“Why?” she asked. “You don’t...You don’t need me to like you. I don’t understand why.”

 

“I want you to,” he said quickly, as if it should have been obvious despite everything in the past. “It’s a small island and I don’t want to share it with you on bad terms. I want things between us to be- well be different, at least.”

 

She couldn’t meet his eyes so she gazed just over his shoulder, but she could make out every flicker of movement on his face. The knot pressing between his eyes, the clench of his jaw, the burst of breath released between parted lips as his shoulders dropped and he turned to leave.

“Not coffee.” Darcy bit her the inside of her mouth and Johnny froze in place. His eyes crept to her face and she stared out the window. There was a mother and daughter, a summer family who loved Jane and her organic face wash, walking up the steps.

 

“The whole island would be listening in,” Darcy said and Johnny grinned, so bright and white. “Just come up to the house sometime.”

 

“Yeah? Really? When's good?” He asked, still grinning, beaming, blinding and warm and obnoxiously handsome.

 

“Whenever,” Darcy rushed, pushing the burn salve back across the counter to him. “Just take it. That's about to get infected.” She nodded at the jagged blister on his right wrist and slipped out from behind the counter before he could try to pay. She didn't know why, she just knew she didn't want his money. And the burn was nasty.

 

“Hannah, Laura, it’s good to see you,” Darcy said, smiling at the women as the bells rang over the door.

 

“Thanks.” Darcy almost jumped when he tapped the base of her back with his hand as he passed her to the door, hand scorching through her linen blouse and callouses snagging at the fabric. “See you soon?”

 

Darcy nodded without looking back at him, pretending to focus on her customers.

  
  


 

August 16 th , 2008

 

_ Tink. Tink. _

 

_ Tink. _

 

_ TAP. _

 

Darcy blinked up at the ceiling of the sunroom, flooded blue with moonlight, and listened.

 

_ Tink. Tink. _

 

It was coming from outside and above, little knocks against the side of the house where her room was.

 

She left her cards at the table and swung the large bay window of the sunroom out to see Johnny Storm standing in a patch of thyme in front of her, arm pulled back and a stone that was certainly much larger than the ones tapping at her window had been in his hand.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

 

“Jesus! Lewis. Scared the crap outta me.” His cheeks were dark and there were wet strands of dark blonde hair falling into his eyes. His t-shirt was wet too, like he’d just climbed out of the ocean and up the cliff to her house.

 

“Why the hell are you in my yard, Storm? Get out of here.”

 

“Why the hell weren't you at the docks tonight Lewis?” he snarled back, stomping into the rose bush below the window, a sour stench on his breath.

 

“Why would I be at the docks?”

 

“Cause we all were! Jesus. Why do you think?”

 

“We? We as in our class? Classmates who hate me? Who I hate?”

 

“We don't fucking hate you,” Johnny scoffed. “I mean, you don't show up to the party, which is pretty shitty, Lewis, I gotta say, but nobody hates you.”

 

“Go home, Johnny. You're drunk,” Darcy said, trying to shut the window but only bumping it into his shoulder.

 

“No, wait, I gotta tell you something.”

 

Darcy huffed and waited, trying not to notice the warmth billowing off of him and the way his blue eyes glowed in the moonlight, studying her.

 

Johnny blinked and his head dropped to one side. “Didju say you hated me? You  _ hate _ me? Never wanted you to hate me, Lewis. Just didn't wanna love you.”

 

Darcy felt as if, very suddenly, she'd just broken in half. As if there had been a seam holding her together and now it had unraveled and she was falling apart in two separate directions. Her throat was sealed shut and her chest was burning and she could not take a breath.

 

“You succeeded,” she said but Johnny’s head was somewhere else, he was staring at her in her cotton night dress, staring at the hem at her knees, and he didn't hear.

 

“Get the fuck out of my yard, Storm,” Darcy said, louder. “Don’t ever come back. Get out and go home before I scream for Natasha.”

 

Johnny's face knotted in frustration. “Jesus, Lewis, come on-”

 

“Go Johnny! Get the hell away from me before I - I curse you!”

 

She would curse him to forever wonder about love and never feel it. A perfect and fair revenge.

 

He looked startled and stumbled back, heels sliding in the pebble path behind him. It was the first–the only–time Darcy ever used witchcraft as a threat. As she watched him storming down the garden path, slamming his knees against the gate door to force it open, she couldn't decide if she felt any satisfaction in his fear. She couldn't decide if she felt anything at all.

  
  


 

June 11 th , 2017

 

Once again, Johnny arrived earlier than Darcy (hoped) expected. He was walking up the garden path while she was trimming the lavender the next morning. He was looking up at the house when she realized he was there. It was Sunday and it wasn't even lunch yet and he just...came. Twenty-four hours later. She'd come out to the garden to process their conversation and then... there he was.

 

“Hey,” he paused on the path when he caught sight of her. He was staring, really studying her, and in old jean cut-offs and an oversized button-down shirt she felt thoroughly exposed by his stare.

 

“I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you,” she said.

 

He walked to her and settled down to the ground next to her and Darcy hated every shift and stretch of it. It wasn't right that he was so beautiful, how could one person be so perfectly arranged?

 

“I’m not asking that,” he said. “I’m sorry for yesterday, I just–I'd sort of planned the order out in my head. Of feeling things out through Jane and then, I don't know, bumping into you. But you were just...there. And a lot came out at once.”

 

_ Who is this person? _ She wondered. So familiar, but not Johnny Storm. Not the teenage boy who'd made a point of stepping on her like an ant so often.

 

“Okay, so, forgiveness aside,” Darcy said. “What’s the apology for?”

 

Was he in a program, making amends? 

 

He was plucking at the grass, nervy, and she watched the cords of muscle in his arms working, his scarred fingertips running through the green blades, combing lines. Then she nudged his hands with her toes and when he looked up, caught and guilty like a little boy, she shook her head. 

 

“Leave our yard in peace, Storm.”

 

He smiled and scrunched his shoulders up. “Sorry. I, um, the apology. The apology is for…” His fingers twitched and she narrowed her eyes at him. “You gave me a lot of openings,” he said finally. “While we were in school. You were nice, even after I was a jerk to you. And I shut you out. I knew I was being a shithead but…”

 

“But you were thirteen and new to the island and I was the weird kid,” Darcy said for him, shrugging. “If you'd let me in, everyone else would have shut you out.”

 

She went back to work on the lavender while he watched her. His gaze felt like a hand resting on her shoulder.

 

“That’s… A lot of it,” he said. She nodded and shifted to put a bundle of flowers into her basket just as he leaned forward to pick a stem out. Their hands brushed and Darcy shrunk away like he'd burned her. He had. He was so warm.

 

“Do you want to know the rest?” he asked.

 

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Do you want to tell me?” she hedged, snipping at stems with a focus better suited to casting spells than gathering herbs.

 

“Maybe not yet,” he said after a long silence. “I’d still like to get coffee,” he added.

 

Darcy cringed without thinking but Johnny just laughed. 

 

“Seriously? Is it me or is it coffee?” he asked.

 

She rolled her eyes and looked back at him. “Not that much has changed. I'm still the weird kid.”

 

His smile eased and he stretched forward, elbows on knees. She could see the map of scratches and shiny burns on his arms, a singed eyebrow. God, he was mess. Wasn't he supposed to be  _ skilled _ at glass blowing? Shouldn't that have included a modicum of safety?

 

“I’m not worried about what the island thinks,” he said with just an edge of cockiness. He didn't have to worry now. He was golden. He'd been golden for a long time.

 

How did she explain to him what it was to be accepted but not loved? Useful without being appreciated? Stared at for your supposed strangeness instead of your appeal?

 

“How about I make the coffee?” he said after Darcy had spent too long being quiet in response. “You could come to the studio, it’s practically finished. I'll make you something since I never paid for that salve. Which, look, tell Jane it's amazing.” He showed her the burn on his wrist, the blister had smoothed away and the skin was shiny and white, healing quickly. Which didn't stop her from wanting to take him into the house and coat him head to toe in the spelled salves they kept in stock, and then an oil for protection for good measure.

 

“Coffee is fine,” Darcy said. “I’d like to see the studio.”

 

“You’ll come?”

 

It seemed too easy to make him happy. Yes she would talk to him, yes she would drink coffee with him. She nodded and he looked lighter. He leaned back on his hands and Darcy wanted to wrap her hand around his forearm, run her thumb up the sinew of muscle that popped with the stretch.

 

“I keep expecting Natasha to come out and give me the evil eye,” he said looking up at the house, then back to her. “I’m sorry. I heard you moved back when she got sick.”

 

Darcy nodded. “It was fast. She just...faded. Did you know how old she was?” she asked, feeling a grin creep up her cheeks. Natasha was surely listening, watching from the house, and she would hate for Darcy to share the secret.

 

Johnny pursed his lips - and Darcy watched the dimple appear in his cheek - and then guessed. “Sixty-five?”

 

“Ninety-four,” Darcy said and a bell rang angrily in the house.

 

She laughed at the blank expression on Johnny's face. “No way,” he said. “No…she looked–she looked like late fifties, max, while we were in high school! Or a sixty year old who looked forty.”

 

“She was actually my great aunt,” Darcy explained. “The oldest of the three sisters.” 

 

“I don't believe you,” he said grinning and shaking his head.

 

“I have the birth certificate,” she said. “I mean, it’s in Russian, but–”

 

He laughed and she lost her voice watching him.

 

“Darcy.” The greenhouse doors swung open and Jane appeared. “There’s a storm coming…Oh. Hello,” she said to Johnny, blinking. “That wasn't a pun. Barometric storm. On its way.”

 

“Alright,” Darcy said nodding, pretending that sitting in the garden with Johnny wasn't a remarkable thing, hoping Jane wouldn't remark. “I’ll come in.”

 

Jane hesitated, glancing between the pair of them before nodding and slipping back inside. Johnny sat up and wiped his hands on his jeans, drawing his knees up to his chest.

 

“I guess that's me leaving,” he said.

 

Darcy tried to smile and nod but she felt a little shaky all over so she just wobbled her way into standing and he followed her up.

 

“You’re coming to the studio though? For coffee.”

 

“Yes,” she said. She studied his smile, the way he bounced on his toes, seemed to waver toward her and then back on his heels again.

 

She smiled back and turned to leave.

 

“Darcy,” he said. She paused and wished she could put a screen or a wall up between them, something to break the weight of his stare. “Thanks. For not shutting me out.”

 

She bit her lip, trying to find something honest to say without throwing everything out between them. But her thoughts were tangled and her heart was pounding and Jane was waiting to walk the island wards with her so she settled on a small smile and another nod.

 

When Darcy came in Jane waited long enough for them to both watch Johnny leaving.

 

“He’s ready,” Jane said.

 

“Please don’t,” said Darcy.

 

Jane had a sharp edge in her face, the same one that appeared when she was fixing an old recipe to be stronger, or more specific. But it slid into something sympathetic after a moment.

 

“Alright,” she said. “Get your tools.”

 

They walked around the edge of the island, on a hike Natasha's parents had laid out and she had shared with them, resetting sigils for safety and peace, checking their warding charms. The storms rolled in and they weaved their way under tree cover until they got closer to town. The wind was hard and the rain was heavy but it was warm out and everyone was tucked away in their houses watching television, so Darcy actually enjoyed the soggy walk through town. There were a couple broken charms near the docks, but that was common. There was a lot of traffic here in the summer and not all of it could be innocent tourists. Darcy swept up the remains into her bag. She'd replace them later in the week.

 

It was dinner time when they crossed their gates again, and the storm had moved out over the ocean. Jane stopped in the yard, walking to the cliff to watch the purple clouds churn and flash. A clap of thunder rolled its way to shore.

 

“He’s alright,” Darcy called.

 

Jane nodded, her back to Darcy, a dark little sliver of a silhouette against the storm.

 

It wasn't words of comfort, or not just that. It was a promise, a certainty, Darcy had given to Jane after she'd fallen in love with Thor and he'd left for a year long study of marine weather patterns and tropical storms. She’d dove into a five day meditation, wiping herself out of visions and dreams and tarot readings for almost month after. But she was sure. Thor would always make it home to Jane. They had a long life together.

 

This was a shorter trip to the arctic, but equally dangerous and while Darcy knew Jane believed her, she still watched storms, ones Thor couldn't possibly be in the midst of, with a wariness like they were a wild animal that might strike out any moment.

 

A car pulled up to the oak. Darcy sighed as Abby Becker, in a bright yellow rain slicker, hopped out of an old Jeep. She was one of the summer flock and another of Johnny's old flings.

 

_ This isn't going to end soon _ , she thought. She knew of at least five more of his exes on the island currently and there would probably be more before the fall. And cards out or not she knew not one of them was going to be happy with her answers.

 

“He’s going to be bad for business,” Jane said appearing behind her.

 

Abby, who had actually always been decent to Darcy, smiled and waved.

 

“I’m mostly worried about me,” Darcy admitted. If Jane was right about Johnny, she was going to become pretty unpopular. Grace Harper...Darcy didn't even want to imagine what she'd say.

 

“I’ll make cocktails,” Jane said.

 

“I’ll swing the axe,” Darcy said walking up to meet Abby on the steps.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear precious nuggets of delight and generosity,
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed. You made my week full of wonderfulness and I am super thankful. More Darcy/Johnny sea of emotional ineptitude sometime next week with a tentatively titled...
> 
> 3\. Heat of the Moment.
> 
> (unless I come up with a better glassblowing pun.)
> 
> Feed the beast <3 (I'm the beast and also, ragwitch on tumblr.)


	4. 3. Burning Hearts, Fragile Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturn is in perfect alignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am BOWLED OVER by the support for this story. Thank you so much to everyone of you reading, commenting, kudosing, subscribing, bookmarking. I love this story and I'm so glad to share it.
> 
> Special thanks to janetsnakehole for her wonderful beta-ing, and to bloomsoftly for becoming a support beam for me and this story these past couple weeks!
> 
> Enjoy!

August 5 th , 2006

 

Darcy watched from the docks as Gabe Andrews, her first summer fling, first kiss, first decent groping in the woods at sunset, turned into a narrow line of black on the back of the ferry to the mainland. She didn’t expect him to wave, his parents were with him and anyway he was a bit of a mall goth. And it wasn’t heartbreak to see him go, exactly. His hands were cold and dry and he’d once made her watch him practice dancing with glow sticks for more than a half hour. But he was the first person who’d wanted to spend time with her for  _ being _ a witch. And even if his hands were a little scratchy, his lips  _ were not _ and if she let him play with the ladies over her clothes she totally forgot about the chapped drawbacks in favor of slow, lazy, stirring kisses that went on until she thought her mouth might be bruised.

 

And he’d liked her. Thought she was cool. Let her talk about spells with a dopey fascination on his face. There was something a little glossy and overdone about it all. And she suspected that she would be more of a story to tell his friends, than a girl he missed. But being a good story was better than being the girl others crossed the street to avoid, like a black cat on halloween.

 

“Lewis!” 

 

_ Speak of the devil _ . Darcy tensed as Johnny Storm joined her at the dock railing, a plastic grocery bag in one hand. He turned his back to the water and set his elbows on the top bar, leaning into her space and tilting his head to try and force her gaze.

 

“Your boyfriend was a loser,” he said, loud and matter of fact. “You should probably just be glad he’s on his way home.”

 

Darcy sighed and came back from her mental vacation to the real world.

 

“He wasn’t my boyfriend.”

 

“Well there’s the good news!” Johnny said, patting her once, hard, on the shoulder. “Even you shouldn’t have to sink so low.”

 

“How’s your neck healing up?” Darcy asked, taking a step farther from him.

 

She and Gabe had accidentally run into Johnny and a summer girl rolling around in the grass out by the old one-room school house and they’d surprised the girl so much she’d bit down while she’d been sucking a hickey on Johnny’s throat.

 

“I think it looks pretty cool, actually,” Johnny said, tilting his head to the side to show Darcy the old bruise, sharp little teeth marks curving into an irritated oval.

 

Darcy laughed despite herself and Johnny grinned and for a moment she wondered,  _ Is this real? Is this how it might feel? _

 

Johnny’s smile froze and then his face tightened and the expression was forced away. 

 

“Guess it’s good the summer brings  _ someone _ willing to talk to you,” he said.

 

Even Darcy knew the insult was half-hearted, his attempt at repairing their status quo. So she replied, “And how lucky for you that it brings a fresh selection of low standards for you to sample from.”

 

He snorted, and that ease flickered between them again. Was it so difficult to hate each other? It felt like work to Darcy. But she didn’t want to be Johnny Storm’s door mat to walk over so she fought back. Blow for blow. Insult for insult. Until some days she felt like a target that’d been shot to crumbs. 

 

Johnny started fishing in his grocery bag and Darcy moved to leave and walk back up to the house on the cliff.

 

“Hang on,” he said, and then he pulled out two fudgesicles, water condensing on the plastic wrappers. “Here.”

 

She stared at his hand, the treat pointed at her face. “Why?” she asked.

 

“Because they’re melting,” he snapped, waving it and nearly hitting her on the nose. “And your little weirdo boy toy is gone and I’m being nice. So just take it.”

 

Darcy pinched the wrapper between her thumb and index finger. “Is that the textbook definition of nice?”

 

“It’s as nice as you’re likely to get until next summer,” Johnny grumbled and then pushed off the railing and marched away from her.

 

Darcy stared at the treat in her hand until she saw a small dribble of chocolate start to melt down the edge. She threw the plastic wrapper in the dock bin and started home, taking long licks and trying not to feel grateful.

 

June 15 th , 2017

 

Johnny’s exes drifted to the house like stray cats after fresh food, trickling in one by one until Darcy came home Wednesday evening to find three of them on her porch, looking extremely unhappy to see each other. Jane left the Lab early to help run interference with a pan of brownies and two bottles of red wine. But one after the other his old flames left the house looking more irritated than Darcy found them.

 

On Thursday she took a day of rest, leaving Jane to handle the shop while she putzed around the house, tinkering with charms, spinning some wool for Mrs. Humphrey’s knot magic, and painting her toenails a light periwinkle blue. The phone rang and Darcy's stomach sank even as her heart beat a quick, tell-tale beat. It was Johnny.

 

“Come to the studio,” he said after she answered.

 

“I will,” she said, the ‘eventually’ clear in the silence.

 

“No, I mean today. Jane said you're home and I'm just up the road now.”

 

She knew that. He'd bought a parcel of land that'd gone up for sale the year before. She and Jane had been hoping to save enough before it sold. Now it had the unusual looking building Johnny had designed and a small gravel parking lot.

 

“You haven't been up here yet,” he said.

 

“I didn't realize you meant this week,” she said.  _ Liar _ .

 

“I think I meant, you know, like Monday,” he said and then he laughed, abbreviated and a little nervous.

 

“I was kind of planning a lazy day,” she said slowly. 

 

Ten years of no Johnny and now a week entirely full of him, or at least the mention of him. She was drowning.

 

“I’m not going to make you paint my walls, Darcy,” he said. He huffed a little and she wrinkled her nose. Pushy. Too impatient. “My guys are off today,” he said, softer now. “So, if you can make it here later, we won't have an audience or anything.”

 

She hummed a little. “Okay, I'll ... I'll see.”

 

He was quiet and then, “Yeah. Okay. I've got to use up some of this first batch so I'll be here. Till, late probably.”

 

“Okay.” She nodded and then thumped her head lightly on the cupboard by the phone.

 

“Okay.”

 

Darcy hung up and moaned into the countertop.

 

_ He's waiting for you this time. _

 

“Please don't make this sound easy,” Darcy whispered against the wood. A soft feeling against her hair, against her back, warmth on her cheek.

 

_Not easy_ , Natasha said, _but safe._ _You were always going to land in the same place._

 

“Then why did before feel like a crash?” Darcy asked.

 

There was no answer. 

 

Her toenails weren't dry yet so she went to work, pedicure sponges in place, on pounding some sourdough waiting on the counter into submission. Johnny Storm could be useful for well-kneaded bread. He had been in high school and he would be again. The dough had to rest and Darcy decided that the kitchen needed cleaned. And the halls needed swept. And then she invented a few more chores to fill the time, as if she had a checklist that needed completed before allowing herself to leave the house. She chopped dark chocolate and pitted sweet cherries and folded them into the dough before putting it in the oven. She busied herself with cleaning windows and watering the plants in the greenhouse that Jane had given her permission to touch. Maybe, if she dawdled long enough, the day would vanish and she would have missed Johnny entirely.

 

But at four the house was shockingly spotless and the bread was cool enough to travel so she packed a basket and walked to Johnny's studio. The building was large and tall, shaped like an old barn but with enormous glass windows on every side and skylights that raised into vents on the steepled roof. It was a clean, bright gray, and the garage style rolling door was raised up. Johnny had music playing, some upbeat rock with a guy singing, asking someone not to walk all over him.

 

He was seated at a bench, his back to her with two fans pointed at him, fluttering the sweat damp blue t-shirt he had on. He had a red bandana twisted up and tied around his head, enormous black sunglasses, and a pair of what looked like old knee socks covering his forearms with burn holes speckling the ribbing. He rolled a long dark pipe on the arms of the bench with a large, red-hot globe of molten glass twirling at the end. He was keeping it centered, adjusting the speed of rotation to balance the soft weight of hot glass. He stretched, leaning over the side of the bench and lifted a wooden paddle out of a bucket of water, pressing it gently to the glass, water spitting and steam billowing up. The pressure stretched the glass, turning the globe into a longer, smoother vessel. 

 

Darcy hung back at the open doors. Johnny had a smooth, almost stern, expression on his face as he worked. It was the first time in a decade that she was getting a chance to just  _ look _ at him, without him focusing on her in return. He was beautiful in a way that made her skin itch to press against his. She’d had  _ too many _ dreams full of textures, sounds, smells of him but in person the foggy edges of a dream firmed into something unbearably tangible. His hair was sticking up around the edges of the bandana and she wanted to twirl her fingers in the cowlick of light hair at the crown of his head, dig her thumbs into the knot of muscle at the base of his neck. She wanted to slide behind him on the bench, straddle her thighs outside of his, and press her chest to his back, put her nose to his spine and take deep breaths of him. He stood and she nearly stumbled back from the door. 

 

This was an unfamiliar creature, she reminded herself. Not the dream and not the bully. Someone new. 

 

He was walking up to a pair of rectangular doors with a basketball sized opening of heat and fire between them, spinning the hot glass toward the floor in one hand and reaching for a plastic heat shield on wheels with the other, when he caught sight of her in the reflective shine. The pipe slipped to the floor with a crack and a clatter.

 

“Oh, shit- shit!”

 

“Ohmigod, I am  _ so  _ sorry,” Darcy hissed, running forward, dropping her basket to the floor.

 

The glass was turning from orange to red and darker on the floor and Darcy wasn’t sure exactly what to do, only that this was her fault.

 

“No, no, wait!” He darted forward, stopping her with a hand on her side, fingers squeezing at her hip for a moment, their chests bumping into one another with breathy ‘oofs’. There was another, higher, ominous crack from the floor and Johnny let her go, grabbing the near end of the pipe and running it over to a bucket by the hot mouths of the furnaces. He dropped the glass into the bucket. There was a hiss of steam and then a terrible, slow shattering, little spits of glass popping out of the metal lip and hitting the floor.

 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Darcy said, hands over her face.

 

Johnny wiped his forehead with the sock covered arm, and flipped up his sunglasses onto his head as he turned back to her. A quarter sized chunk of glass skidded in Darcy’s direction.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she said again, at a whisper.

 

His smile was crooked. “It’s fine, it wasn’t important.”

 

“It looked so nice. I should have said hello when I came in,” she rambled.

 

His eyebrows ticked up. “When did you come in?”

 

Oops. “Umm…before the wood thing?”

 

His cheek dimpled and he tucked his hands into his back pockets. 

 

“I would have just ended up smashing it up then,” he said. He went to the bench and grabbed a remote, turning down the music overhead. “You surprised me. I gave up on you.”

 

He was looking at her knees where the hem of her skirt hit and she wished she’d worn pants. Or just a tent. Something more like a disguise. She went to back to the door where the basket was laying on its side, the bread still safely wrapped in a towel. She tried not to feel an ache at what he’d just said.

 

“So what did I destroy?” she asked.

 

“’S nothing. I was just dicking around. This company sent me a new kind of batch to test so I’m working through it. But I usually just make my own so I kinda want to get back to that. You brought a basket.”

 

“I made bread,” she said. “What’s a ‘batch’?”

 

“It’s the base glass that goes in the glory hole,” he pointed to the middle opening against the wall. He walked up until they were barely a foot apart, curling his back to arch over her, and flicked at the towel in the basket. “What kind of bread?”

 

He was wearing a little smile and Darcy had a terrible urge to press her fingertips to the corners of it and draw him down for a kiss. Her body felt heavy and hyper aware under his stare. So she blinked and walked around his side, moving over to small table by a kitchenette on the far end of the room. She was used to being the smallest person in a conversation and having to crane her neck to make eye-contact. She  _ wasn’t _ used to feeling dainty. But Johnny’s shoulders were broad and his hands were large and she had the strangest sensation of being breakable or delicate standing next to him.

 

“Sourdough with chocolate and cherries,” Darcy said. She put the basket on the table and looked over her shoulder. He was watching from the door and he looked  _ hungry _ but she wasn’t clueless enough to think it was for bread. “Did you really just call something a glory hole?”

 

The predator’s stare faded away with a boyish giggle. “Uh, yeah. It still makes me laugh, too. But it’s where I gather clear glass to blow or add color to. I said I’d make you something.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

“You brought me bread. Really strange and delicious sounding bread. And I never stopped for lunch so I’m gonna eat a lot of it and you should probably let me make you something in return.”

 

Darcy bit her lip trying to think of something he could make that wouldn’t take long, or much effort. Something meaningless, something small and quick that she could set aside and forget about. Like a paperweight or…

 

“A flower,” she said and then winced. She’d gotten a date at a fancy restaurant in Providence during college and the table next to hers had received a small glass flower with a long stem for the woman’s birthday. She’d wanted one but it’d only been a first date and she hadn’t wanted to ask. Still, they were small, with simple lines. It couldn’t take much.

 

“A flower,” he repeated. He wrinkled his nose.

 

Johnny Storm, glassblowing prodigy, probably hadn’t needed to make a chintzy little flower since college.

 

“Or a paperweight,” she suggested, trying to see what other face she could draw out.

 

He narrowed his eyes at her and she tried not to smile.

 

“You’ll stay and talk to me while I work?” he asked. “Till it’s finished.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll make you a flower. There’s fresh coffee in that pot, as promised. And I’ve got bread knives in the drawer to the left.”

 

“You want a slice?”

 

“Definitely. I’m gonna set up what I need.”

 

Darcy found mugs - one with a little figurine raising a blow pipe that said ‘I do all my own stunts’ and another that said in large block letters ‘Glassblowing Diva’ - and the bread knife. She checked over her shoulder to see Johnny setting pieces of brightly colored glass down with tongs, onto a machine topped with a slab of metal.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“I’m putting your flower petals on the warmer.”

 

“Johnny…you know I meant a little flower, right?”

 

He blinked at her, all innocent and open, and then slid his sunglasses back down to his nose.

 

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

 

_

 

_ You’re stupid _ , Darcy thought to herself over an hour later. Johnny had her captive, so to speak, for the rest of the day. And whatever he was making, it wasn’t a little flower. It was a massive globe, about the size of a basketball, that Johnny had transferred from one pipe to another where he’d prepped a little blob of molten glass into a foot for the piece while Darcy had sat, panicking at the bench and rolling the pipe he’d started with. He’d admitted about halfway through that whatever this was, it was usually a two person job. But he’d coached her through it, and then fixed what she’d messed up. 

 

He’d been opening the small mouth at the end of the globe for about fifteen minutes, alternating heating it in the glory hole with taking it back to the bench to roll and pry the lip open with a pair special tongs. And the whole time he’d kept a steady conversation moving between them. He asked about college, talked about leaving Swans Island with no intention of coming back and slowly realizing everything he missed about the place. He asked her about her ex-boyfriend, the last one she’d had right before leaving for college, and then about recent boyfriends. When she turned the tables to ask him about all the broken hearts he’d left in Pittsburgh, he blushed and said ‘I slowed down a lot after high school.’  He asked about tarot cards, about Natasha and Jane, about how she ran the little side business out of the house. 

 

“I usually know when someone’s coming out,” she explained. “Either because of town gossip or intuition, but there’s a decent chunk of people who will call ahead.”

 

“How much of the island do you see?” Johnny asked. He was twisting the pipe in his hand, outlined by the wavy heat from glory hole. The shield covered half of him, but he kept nudging it to the side so he could get a better grip.

 

As he hefted the pipe and came back to the bench Darcy was hovering behind, she felt she was getting a very clear picture on why Johnny’s arms looked so deliciously muscled. He’d been carrying around the weight of the pipe and the glass for over an hour and if he’d broken a sweat it probably had more to do with the three fires in front of them. And she knew from handling the piece that what he made look light and easy to manage, was actually heavy enough to tip out of her hands if she wasn’t holding on tight.

 

“Umm, I have a handful of regulars that I see once a month or so,” she said. “And then another couple dozen that I might see once or twice a year. But in the last five years I’ve probably seen…ninety percent of the island.”

 

Johnny stood and turned back to stare at her. “Seriously?”

 

She nodded. “Major life events, people like to check in. Get advice or help.”

 

Johnny walked back to the fire. “Natasha, she helped my mom, back in high school. When she got the diagnosis.”

 

Darcy remembered. She’d been working at the old stove when Mary Storm had come to the door. Natasha had called Jane down to consult, and the three of them had worked every spare minute for a month, meditating, mixing, and working hard magics. Darcy had skipped a day of school to visit Mrs. Storm at her home and trace health sigils over every wall. 

 

“I always meant to say thank you to her,” he added.

 

“You didn’t need to. It was the only kind of work she really loved doing,” she said. 

 

Johnny was focused on the glass now and Darcy watched as it turned softer, growing wide and open, loosening at the end of the pipe.

 

“So this part goes pretty fast,” he said over his shoulder. “Go wait for me by the annealer. When I say, I’ll just have you swing the door open, but stay behind it because it’s crazy hot in there.”

 

Darcy moved over to the big metal cabinet that looked an old metal fridge. It had six compartments on it, four latched shut with red magnetic squares and two waiting to be filled with green magnets on the front. Johnny checked on her with a glance and then pulled the glass out of the heat, lifting it straight into the air, spinning the pipe in his hands. She stared as the rounded bowl spun and fluttered, perfectly balanced, until it was flat like a pancake. Johnny took two quick steps, looking up at the glass, and then jumped up onto his bench. The pipe twirled down to the floor and the flat plate of glass wrinkled and rippled along the edge. He shifted it back and forth, up into the air, down the floor, until the fluted edge of the bowl cooled and firmed. 

 

She waited, stunned, by the annealer oven as Johnny broke the foot of the piece off the pipe and into his waiting, mittened, hand.

 

“Okay, open!”

 

She hid behind the door and even then the blast of heat slid over her skirt and down her legs, around the edges of the metal to lick at her arms. It was almost scalding, like jumping into a steamy bath after playing in the snow.  A mittened hand appeared and pulled the door shut for her, latching and then flipping the magnet. Johnny was there, the edges of his face sparkling with sweat, cheeks dimpled.

 

“Done.”

 

“That was not a flower,” Darcy said.

 

“It’s a  _ glass _ flower,” he said. “So it’s subjective.”

 

“I didn’t really get to see it.”

 

“It’ll look better after it’s cooled and the colors aren’t distorted by heat.” He shuffled in step for a moment, before pulling off the mittens and walking over to the fans. “I could bring it over tomorrow,” he said, slipping his sunglasses into the ‘v’ of his tee and rubbing at the bandana on his forehead to wipe away some of the sweat.

 

“Oh,” she said, a little disappointed to have to wait.

 

“We could go get dinner together,” he added, and then his gaze fixed to her face and she felt herself freeze, like a rabbit readying to bolt.

 

“Dinner?”

 

“Yeah.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and Darcy caught a glimpse of the skin looking too red. The pipe must have gotten hot by the end of the work. “Flowers are sort of customary before dates, anyway, so…”

 

“A date?”

 

_ Sentences, Darcy. Sentences, not questions _ , she thought.

 

“Dinner.” He nodded. “Dinner date.”

 

“Is this…part of the apology thing?” she asked.

 

He scratched at his head and his hair stuck up in place after. “The apology was more of a necessary precursor. I mean–no, shit. The apology was important. And it stands. Very sincerely. But um…a date was also…also something I hoped you’d accept.” His shoulders were up around his ears and he was shifting his hands again–pockets, neck, folded arms, pockets again. She wanted to take them and start working salve into his palms, but her own were trembling against the skirt of her dress so she tucked them deeper into the folds.

 

“I have appointments tomorrow night,” she said, because she couldn’t seem to focus on the general request, only the specific part. Tomorrow was too soon when she was still standing here with him today.

 

“Saturday?” he said quickly, looking wary.

 

He expected to be refused, it was clear. He was leaning back, like he was shying away from a coming blow, eyes wincing as he watched her. She knew that feeling, had been standing on the other end of this exchange years ago. There was a bitter little part of her that wanted to refuse him, wanted some satisfaction for old slights, and she was exhausted to find that in herself.

 

“Can it be next Friday?” she asked.

 

He blinked. “Yeah. Next Friday?” He stood straighter, face smoothing back into that golden boy smile she wanted shield herself from, wanted to bask in. “I’m free in the week, if that’s better.”

 

“Friday,” Darcy said, firmly. “I’m…I’m a little overwhelmed, Johnny.”

 

He took a hard breath and she felt his surprise like a punch to her own gut. “Right,” he said softly, sobering. “Okay. So Friday, low-key dinner.”

 

She smiled at that and his face wrestled with a grin. 

 

“It’s…it’s a date,” she said, and she had turn away from the bright beaming of his smile.

 

_

 

Darcy finished up with a summer visitor who was deciding between a promotion at work and starting her own business, and then joined Jane on her balcony. She curled up in the love seat and let Jane twist and elbow her way into Darcy’s hold, until the slight woman was laying half on top of her, staring up at the sky.

 

“What are we looking at tonight?” Darcy asked, combing her fingers through Jane’s soft hair.

 

“Saturn is in perfect opposition,” Jane said, raising an arm and pointing up into the sky. 

 

Darcy tried to follow but she’d always been terrible at this part. Jane was practically a telescope and Darcy could recall her following the patterns of stars and planets in the sky when they were still both in grade school. Jane had memorized the shifts of the universe and the affects on their own world the way Darcy had taken to the tarot cards.

 

“What’s that mean?” Darcy whispered and she could see straight down the line of Jane’s nose to watch the woman’s smile grow.

 

“Upheaval in our love lives,” Jane said, smirking. “Commitments. Rejections.”

 

Darcy stiffened. She hadn’t told Jane about agreeing to Johnny’s date. It was hardly a commitment, though.

 

“You’re teasing me,” Darcy said.

 

“Yeah, but it’s true,” Jane answered. 

 

Darcy sighed and settled her cheek on the top of Jane’s head. 

 

“Johnny’s different now,” Jane said and she sounded as surprised as Darcy felt.

 

“I know that,” Darcy said. 

 

“You’ll give him time?”

 

“If he gives me some in return.”

 

Jane wrapped her hands over Darcy’s on her stomach and squeezed. 

 

“Good, I think you’ll need him.”

 

Darcy blinked. “Will you tell me what’s wrong? You know something.”

 

“No, not really. But there’s a puzzle putting itself together and I just…haven’t identified all the pieces yet.”

 

“Okay. So not what. When?”

 

“August, the solar eclipse, I think. Something in August. ”

 

August. It was a lot of time to set up guards, lay down protections. Plenty of time for the pair of them. So why was Jane worried?

 

“We can be ready,” Jane said, answering Darcy’s thoughts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goodness! A hint of non-Johnny related plot snuck in! What a concept. 
> 
> Song playing in Johnny's studio is Walk on Me by Ben Kweller. If you want some summery tunes that suit this story and are also great for driving with windows rolled down - Ben Kweller's self-titled is my Johnny album (listen to Magic!) Beach House's Devotion is my Darcy album and Mac DeMarco and Best Coast have honorable mentions.
> 
> Come chat with me on tumblr as @ragwitch! I wanna hug you.
> 
> Leave me some sugar!
> 
> Next Sunday: Chapter 4 - Love Spells


	5. 4. Love Spells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You. Guys.  
> I am a cat and you are the sunny spot I am sleeping in. And my favorite cardboard box to sit in. And the red dot of doom that I so desperately want to catch and cuddle(eat). And the sound of a can of tuna opening. I'm so excited you are reading and enjoying and so grateful. Thank you SO much for all your support. 
> 
> Thank you especially to JanetSnakehole for incredible beta-ing and bolstering and bloomsoftly for hand-holding and nerve-soothing and just generally being the freaking best.

 

February 8 th , 2007

 

“See you later, Tash, I’m off,” Darcy called from the front door. She was on the front step, without an answer, when a bruise green stain spread out across her vision. A great, heavy rock dropped from her stomach down to her knees she wobbled and leaned against the doorframe, sucking in a breath.

 

“Tash? Tash!” she called. She dropped her backpack on the porch and stumbled back inside swinging open doors with sharp bangs until she found Natasha in the sitting room, kneeling on the floor with her hands braced on the frame of the fireplace.

 

Another wave of  _ awful _ washed over Darcy, like cobwebs dragging over her skin and dust coating the inside of her mouth and cement running through her brain and-

 

“Ground yourself, Darcy,” Natasha growled from the other end of the room.

 

Darcy dropped to the floor, pressing her face into the smooth, cool finish of the floorboards. The whiff of vinegar and lemon cleared some of the dense black in her thoughts.

 

“What  _ is _ this?” 

 

“Someone is trying to break in,” Natasha whispers.

 

“To the house?” She hadn’t seen anything the yard. Hadn’t felt anything when she’d stepped outside. They had so many wards, so many warnings, what could sneak up on them?

 

“To  _ me. _ ”

 

Darcy took another deep, long, breath. A psychic attack. Jane and Darcy had made a joke of them as kids, starting staring contests with each other and then claiming they were practicing mental defenses when Natasha tried to interrupt them. And then, one day, Jane hadn’t found the idea funny any more. And now neither did Darcy.

 

“Come here, little ved’ma,” Natasha coaxed softly, and Darcy rolled her face against the floor to look across the room. Natasha was grimacing, face white, but her hand was held out to Darcy. She flicked her fingers and Darcy crawled across the floor to her aunt. “I will take the pressure off,” Natasha said. “But you will need to gather things for me. Follow my instructions.”

 

Darcy nodded, and then peeking up at Natasha’s grave, worried gaze, added, “Anything to miss school.”

 

Natasha sighed and scowled, but the corners of her lips twitched. “Black tourmaline and carnelian. Sprigs of rowan. Branches, even. Red ribbons.”

 

“I can make a charm,” Darcy said as Natasha paused to take a breath.

 

“Yes, darling, nothing works better than your charms. Black salt, Saint John’s Wort, Sulfur. You remember?”

 

Darcy rattled off the list.

 

“Good. Call Jane, warn her. Make sure she gets the message before we finish today.”

 

“Yes, Tash. Who is it? Who’s doing this?”

 

Natasha blinked slowly and Darcy felt a wretched, slithering, coldness run down her spine. 

 

“Someone is always looking for a Romanova woman,” Natasha said. “Are you ready?”

 

“Ready,” Darcy said.

 

Natasha gritted her teeth, pulling hard on Darcy’s hand. Darcy shouted, high and aching, and reared back as something thorny and sharp snagged inside of her, catching in her chest, down her arms, out her eyes, until she dropped Natasha’s hand and lay flattened on the floor gasping. She whimpered once and then Natasha’s hand thumped hard against the frame of the fireplace.

 

“Go,” her aunt ordered and Darcy scuttled up off the floor and ran out the room to hunt down ingredients.

  
  
  


June 21 st 2017

 

“Stop twitching,” Jane said, as Darcy bumped into her while she was picking out crates of strawberries at the farmers market.

 

“Grace Harper is glaring at me,” Darcy whispered in her cousin’s ear.

 

Jane flashed a glance over her shoulder before turning back to the strawberries. “Grace Harper is glaring at the price of kale. Calm down.”

 

“I feel like I’m wearing a sign that says ‘This idiot agreed to dinner with Johnny Storm,’” Darcy hissed. She flicked at the strawberries and Jane batted her away. 

 

“Don’t put your nervous energy on those, I’m making tarts for that wedding shower,” Jane said. “The bride doesn’t need your weird vibes giving her cold feet.”

 

“Save the leaves for Mrs. Humphrey,” Darcy said.

 

Jane ‘hm’d and added, “Don’t you think if you were wearing a sign everyone would be doing a lot more than staring?”

 

“So you admit there’s staring happening?”

 

“Well the local witch is acting super shifty at the farmer’s market, so yeah, Darcy, there’s probably staring happening. Would you please go get some squash for dinner?”

 

“Remind me how sympathetic you were about this the next time you need a favor, Jane.”

  
  
  


June 22 nd 2017

 

“What should I wear tomorrow?” Darcy asked as Jane passed her a cup of coffee over the kitchen island.

 

“Whatever you decide to put on in the morning,” Jane said with shrug. “That’s my usual policy.”

 

“I meant the date.”

 

“So did I.” 

 

They stared at each other over the lips of coffee mugs for a minute.

 

“He said it was going to be low-key, right?” Jane asked.

 

“Sure, but there’s low-key and then there’s date low-key,” Darcy said.

 

Jane took a long, loud, slurp of her coffee. “ _ Is _ there?” Darcy thunked her head against the countertop and Jane smirked down at the younger woman’s tangles, one lock of hair dangling on the mouth of her mug, about to be dipped in. “You seem excited about this.”

 

“I’m anxious, it’s not the same thing,” Darcy said into the wood.

 

“But you want it to go well,” Jane said, with a graceful sweep of her mug. It was a shame Darcy was face down because it was a well-executed gesture of smugness.

 

“Well, yeah. I want  _ my _ part in it to go well. Ideally, I would like Johnny to crash and burn tomorrow evening so I can go home feeling superior.”

 

“Ah, Got it. In that case you should probably wear a low-key dress.”

 

Darcy lifted her head, her hair falling back into place, and hummed as she drank. Jane got up from the table and went looking for her cell phone as subtly as possible so she could text Thor an update. After getting the long version of the Darcy and Johnny history he was firmly team ‘Darcy tells Johnny to take a hike.’

  
  
  


June 23 rd 2017

 

Darcy was trying to be objective about the evening. As objective as possible when it came to her thoughts on Johnny Storm. In theory it was a good date. Johnny had checked off the necessary first date boxes with a diligence that made her wonder if he hadn’t talked it over with his sister Sue beforehand.

 

  1. He’d shown up to her house on time, dressed neatly. She’d especially appreciated the rolled up shirt-sleeves because apparently her interest in his forearms was a full-on _thing_ now. 



 

  1. He was holding the glass flower bowl he’d made her and it was full of floating carnation blooms in pinks and oranges. An odd number too, and Darcy could almost feel Natasha’s satisfaction filling up the house. Even numbers were unlucky.



 

  1. He’d given her a choice between driving down to town and walking - she’d chosen spending extra time with Johnny Storm over a small enclosed space full of Johnny Storm - and the conversation _had_ been easy. He talked about two of the guys he hired to work on the studio and how they’d ended up dating and now spent fifty percent of their time flirting. He asked about Thor. 



 

“I hear he’s either wet-your-pants terrifying or super ‘dreamy’” He’d made air quotes. 

 

“He’s a teddy bear,” Darcy said, adding, “But he doesn’t let anyone give Jane any crap.”

 

“Fair,” Johnny said, smiling at her.

 

So she told him about when Thor had shown up at the house because he thought his boat was haunted - it wasn’t, he just had a stow away tomcat eating the fish and making weird noises - and he and Jane had stared at each other for a solid couple of minutes before either one bothered speaking. She didn’t tell him about the pesnya dushi, or how Jane had been so determined to dislike Thor because of Darcy’s own experiences.

 

When they’d gotten to the diner, a ‘low-key’ and wonderfully greasy old shack of an Airstream trailer that sat parked in the same lot for over thirty years with picnic tables for outdoor seating, Darcy actually felt like she was having a good time. 

 

“Storm, shit yeah!”

 

Until Caleb Carver rose up from a picnic table and walked over to slap Johnny on the back.

 

“Jesus, man, where’ve you been? Trying to get ahold of your for…Oh, fuck. Hey, Romanova. What’re you…guys up to?” Then he’d turned to Johnny and raised his eyebrows, high up onto his forehead.

 

And Johnny’d been trying, he really had. After shaking off Caleb with a promise of beers another night, he’d led Darcy into the trailer to look for a small table inside. But they ordered lobster po’boys and then ran directly into Sam Wilson and Helen Cho with their perfect little munchkin Maddie on Helen’s hip.

 

“Johnny, man!” Sam had stiffened, halfway through that partial hug, back-thumping thing guys seemed to prefer when he’d caught sight of Darcy behind Johnny’s back.

 

“Romanova,” he said, blinking.

 

“ _ Darcy _ , hi, how are you?” Helen said, eyebrows heading up, up, up.

 

Darcy appreciated Sam and Helen. The Wilson-Cho’s were basically model citizens. Always polite, both doctors, and genuinely respectful. Also, neither one had ever come up to the house for any special requests. They were a happy couple and they had their shit together. But even  _ they _ couldn’t disguise the confusion on seeing Johnny and Darcy together at the diner. Sam kept looking from her to Johnny with this expectant openness like he was waiting for the punchline to the joke. Darcy grabbed a table and tried not to listen in on the quick conversation.

 

“Okay,” Johnny said, after making it to the table. Helen smiled, sort of bemused, at Darcy from the door and then walked out, Maddie jumping down the steps beside her. “I guess I see what you meant about coffee.”

 

Darcy laughed but she didn’t really feel  _ happy _ to be proven right.

 

“We can go,” he said.

 

But then two women from a couple grades below Darcy and Johnny in school stopped by the table to say ‘hi’. To Johnny. They mostly ignored Darcy until the end and then made a joke of their rudeness with some awkward laughter. Johnny’s cheeks started to stain red by the time they left and his hands were shifting, fidgeting. He looked at Darcy, opened his mouth, and the sandwiches they ordered landed on the table between them.

 

_ This isn’t his fault _ , Darcy thought. But they sat quiet across the table from each other while they started eating.

 

She’s been on worse dates. Definitely more awkward ones. She once met a man for dinner only to discover that he’d double booked his evening and the three of them had sat through an entire meal together. (She hadn’t bothered seeing the man again but she still exchanged texts, mostly memes, with the other woman.)

 

“Look, this isn’t–” Johnny started just as Darcy said, “Tell me about your favorite work of art.”

 

He paused mid-phrase, hunched over in the seat across from hers. The bell on the trailer door rang and Darcy looked down so she didn’t have to recognize whoever might be coming in. 

 

“Really?” he asked.

 

She nodded and took a bite of her sandwich.

 

“I…I don’t know if I have  _ one _ . That’s like–that’s like, ‘what’s your favorite song?’” He wrinkled his nose.

 

“I Put A Spell On You,” Darcy said. Johnny jumped in his chair, eyes growing huge. “By Screamin’ Jay Hawkins,” she explained and smirked as he shook off the startled expression on his face. “But I like the version from Hocus Pocus best.”

 

“You’re fucking with me,” Johnny muttered at his sandwich.

 

“It’s a good song,” she defended. “But okay, just give me a ballpark of your artistic preferences.”

 

Johnny chewed, swallowed, and then took off on a tangent about light, color and perspective in the artist Olafur Eliasson’s body of work.

 

_

 

Darcy took a long breath as they stepped off the last square of sidewalk onto the quiet road. She could breathe easier outside of town. The mood in the diner had improved, and only one other old buddy of Johnny’s had swung by the table to say ‘hey’ and then gawk at the pair of them. But walking with Johnny became an infinitely more pleasant experience when she wasn’t checking house windows to see if the locals were peering out at them. 

 

“Sorry that was…kind of a bust,” Johnny said eventually.

 

The edges of town were falling dark behind them and a little shadow skittered across the asphalt ahead of them, over into the thick cover of trees and brush along the edge of the road.

 

“It went better than I expected,” Darcy said.

 

Johnny huffed and twisted to stare at her but she kept her gaze forward and pursed her lips to hide her smirk. 

 

He cleared his throat and laughter fell out. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Lewis.”

 

“You’re the only one who ever calls me that,” Darcy said, folding her arms around her. It was getting colder now that it was dark and she could feel Johnny’s bubble of heat just a foot or so away. Close enough to sense the warmth but too far to soak it up.

 

“Yeah.” Johnny kicked a bit of rubble off into the gravel. “The Romanova thing. Does it bother you?”

 

“It used to,” Darcy said. “When I was little and I wanted to keep my mom close to me in some way. But now I like the idea of my family honoring its matriarchal line. And acknowledging Natasha’s work in raising me.  _ Not _ that that’s why the locals use it.”

 

“You’re a landmark,” Johnny said, and it was just next to sympathetic. Enough to let Darcy know that he didn’t agree with the island’s notion.

 

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p.’ “But I guess that’s a certain breed of respect.”

 

He was quiet at her side and she realized that they had slowed down after making it out of town. These loose, dragging steps were probably closer to a stroll than a walk. And for a moment she thought she could just stop in place and stand in the quiet empty road at night with Johnny Storm for as long as she wanted. That this was a peaceful, easy place to be in the world.

 

“I have something to tell you,” he said.

 

“Ohhh…kay?”

 

“It goes with the apology.”

 

The Apology. It kept growing in Darcy’s head, taking on a life of its own and she wondered what came next after it was finished. What was the next act after an apology that spanned weeks?

 

“Alright,” Darcy said.

 

“It’s…it’s kind of a long thing,” Johnny said. “And I am kind of a lot embarrassed about it so…So will you listen and then when I’m done, we maybe don’t have to talk about it?”

 

Darcy watched his hands moving, cuffing around his forearms, dipping into his pockets and coming back empty. She was glad he had a tell for his nerves, something for her to read off him.

 

“I reserve rights to one question, if I want it,” she said.

 

His head snapped to face hers and she couldn’t decipher his expression other than that it seemed pleased.

 

“Fine,” he growled without any real bite.

 

They walked, or strolled, or ambled, in silence for endless minutes. Darcy tucked her hands into jean pockets to resist the urge to reach out to him. It was as if she could see the shapes of the words he wanted to speak vibrating in the air around him, waves of nervous energy.

 

“I thought you put a love spell on me,” he said. 

 

Darcy took two steps after he spoke and then stopped as the words sank in. He kept walking, his shoulders inching up to his ears.

 

“It was…almost right away. As soon as I saw you,” he continued and Darcy was forced to move or not hear his soft speech.

 

She opened her mouth to speak. Was he talking about this summer? Or…years ago? But Johnny glanced back over his shoulder, out of the corner of his eye, and she remembered that she’d promised to listen. She jogged to keep pace at his shoulder.

 

“Caleb or one of those guys had probably suggested the idea when they mentioned you,” Johnny said.

 

_ Watch out for Darcy Lewis. She’s a witch and she’ll probably try and put a love spell on you. _ Yes, she could see them saying that about her.

 

“You were nice to me, after everyone else had been little assholes,” he said drily. “And you looked like…like some kind of pixie. So  _ of course _ I had an immediate crush on you.”

 

Darcy’s blood chilled at evenness of the words, the lack of confusion or struggle. Like it had been inevitable for him to feel this way. A way she’d been so  _ painfully _ unaware of until this moment.

 

“And I was embarrassed and a thirteen year-old shit head so…I blamed you for it. Told myself you  _ made _ me like you. And it just didn’t stop,” he whispered. “All through high-school. Kept trying to prove to myself that I didn’t- that I was in charge of my own feelings.”

 

Darcy felt like someone had plugged her in, she felt charged with high voltage, buzzing and ready to snap. She wasn’t sure if the emotion was relief or happiness or a deep and electric rage only that she had never felt so much of something at once and all she could do was step, step, step next to Johnny Storm on a dark road at night.

 

“In college, near the end when I was  _ less _ of an ass I had a friend who was a witch–you’d like her. Eventually I asked her about you. And she pointed out that, well, one–a love spell like that is a shady thing to do and Natasha wouldn’t have let anyone get away with it, and two–if you had put one on me I wouldn’t have spent six years fighting and questioning it.”

 

She tried swallowing, but couldn’t. She was pretty sure she was still breathing. She was, at least, still walking.

 

“I wanted to apologize then but it seemed like it was a few years late and… getting ahold of you to say ‘hey, that boy that was such an ass to you growing up? Yeah, it was ‘cause he  _ liked _ you,’ is a pretty shitty excuse.”

 

Darcy nodded at that and the bob of her head felt distant, like she was puppeteering herself from afar. 

 

“But when I knew that I was coming back, and that you were here…Still want that question?” Johnny asked after a long silence. 

 

Darcy could see the light of the house farther up ahead. Jane had left the fairy lights on that lined the gate. She felt like she was dragging her feet across the pocked asphalt, like she might need to just stop here in the middle of the road for the rest of the night to process what he had told her. 

 

Johnny had spent years–

 

He had felt–

 

All that time she’d spent thinking the pesnya dushi was-–

 

She couldn’t stand it. If all her experiences surrounding her connection with Johnny were turned inside out what was left was everything she’d spent over a decade drawing out of her heart like a poison.

 

“Not yet,” she said.

 

“I’m sorry, Darcy,” he said. “It’s probably more selfishness saying anything now. I just wanted a chance to be honest with you. And myself.”

 

“I’m not the same girl,” she said. “That was a long time ago.”

 

He smiled down at the road. “Yeah I was kind of hoping you’d notice I’ve changed too,” he said, flashing her a grin. He added, “Anyway, you still remind me of a pixie. And seeing you still feels like magic.”

 

That hurt. It hurt in her chest and her head and at the tips of her fingers and deep in her gut, a pain that resonated out of her center to run like an earthquake through her bones and a sharp electrocution through her skin.

 

“Johnny.” It was half apology and half exasperation.

 

They’d made it to the gate and Johnny’s car was under the border oak. Darcy wanted to push him inside of it and beg him to drive away. But she was fairly certain that if she laid a hand on him she’d end up holding on.

 

“Let me walk you to your door,” he said, unlatching the gate for them and walking inside before she could refuse. 

 

Pushy. She was strangely, distantly, grateful for the character flaw in this new version of Johnny. Something to cling to, even when that persistence seemed to be what found its way through the cracks of shock that spread through her.

 

She followed him in and startled as his fingers hooked around hers, not quite holding her to him but chaining radiant links of heat through their hands. With every step closer to the house his hand edged closer to hers until she could feel the raised edge of a scar brush against her palm.

 

“Does ‘better than expected’ mean that you had a nice time?” he asked.

 

Just a few more feet to the front steps and the night would be over and she could breathe again. Could make herself a bath and fall apart in it and try to untangle the nest of emotions clotted up in her chest. She walked up the stairs ahead of him, their hands hovering between them. He was on the stones behind her, face so transparently hopeful that she wanted to cover her eyes.

 

‘Nice’ was a very short word for the evening she’d just survived.

 

“Yes,” she said.  _ It was awful _ . 

 

He beamed and followed her up one step. “Would you see me again?” He watched her struggle. Her face was shifting and even she couldn’t name the expressions. It was like her brain and her body and her heart were all living in separate moments. “I won’t even ask for it to be tomorrow. And the what and where are totally up to you.”

 

She released a long breath and nodded. “Alright.”

 

He grinned and released her hand and then he was standing on the step below her, and it left him just a few inches taller than her and his face close and happy and warm. His hands were on her hips and her whole body seemed to turn to stone, unable to move. 

 

“Darcy…”

 

The tip of his nose brushed against hers and her name out of his mouth was some cue for permission and her eyes were stinging and her chest was burning. She sucked in a breath, thought of pulling away, and only ended leaning into him, marveling at the span of his hands on her sides and the bright smell of him. 

 

“I swear to God, Johnny, if this is some kind of long-game joke on me,” Darcy whispered, as his nose dragged against hers.

 

His fingers twitched at her waist and his breath exhaled sharply across the skin of her neck, goosebumps breaking out in its wake. They froze under the lamplight, glancing warily at each other out of the corner of their eyes. As she watched his eyes shutter and the softness in his face sharpen, she wished for small moment that she had some kind of time magic, or a way to erase Johnny’s memory of the words. When his lips finally landed it was high on her cheek, resting there for a long second, spreading heat across her face. Or maybe that was embarrassment. 

 

She wondered what would happen if she shifted, lifted to her toes and set her mouth against his. But he was pulling away and the chilly night air was flooding in around her, waking her out of the dreamy haze of his proximity. 

 

“Joke’s on me,” he said lightly, but his smile was brittle and directed down to the ground. “G’night, Darcy.”

 

She meant to answer but the words never found their way out.

  
  
  


December 10 th , 2006

 

Darcy found her aunt in the greenhouse. She settled on the top step into the kitchen and leaned into the door frame to watch Natasha trim and coax and praise the plants around her. 

 

“What do you need, little ved’ma?” Natasha asked, only after Darcy was sure that her aunt was unaware of her presence.

 

“What is this?” Darcy held out the journal in her hands, raising it to the open page and turning it, as if Natasha could read the scribbles from across the room.

 

“Read it to me.”

 

“It’s a super grody spell about pouring booze through dirty panties and then serving it with a smile,” Darcy paraphrased, grimacing at the words.

 

“Ah,” said Natasha.

 

“It’s a love spell?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“A manipulative one.”

 

“Very.”

 

“My mom  _ used _ it,” Darcy bit out, trying to force Natasha to meet her gaze. Which was never going to happen. Natasha could drill holes with her stare but Darcy mostly gave herself a headache.

 

“I know, darling,” Natasha said.

 

“You said she didn’t use magic.”

 

“Not doing your laundry doesn’t take much magic,” Natasha mused.

 

Darcy huffed and Natasha set the watering can down on the table, appearing from behind a curtain of spanish moss.

 

“She came to me…too long after. I helped her undo the spell,” Natasha said. “It wasn’t very strong and I don’t know where she found it.”

 

“She probably googled it,” Darcy scoffed but Natasha only shrugged.

 

Darcy shrank back against the doorway as Natasha watched her. She flicked the journal shut and set it on the step.

 

“Ask, Darcy,” Natasha said gently.

 

“Was it my father?”

 

“Yes,” Natasha said.

 

Darcy blinked and took a deep breath. “That’s why he didn’t stay.”

 

“Spelled love is very uncomfortable, it gives no room to the bearer. Your mother claimed she only needed to draw him in. When she became pregnant she realized that he would be jealous of you. Of her love for you. She thought he would stay. That something real had grown under the lie.”

 

“The charms I make…do they–?”

 

“No,” Natasha answered, swift and soft, joining Darcy on the step and drawing her into her arms. “Your charms are the loveliest, neatest, most open-hearted little creations I have ever seen another witch work. They are simple and strong but they are gentle and they do not force shapes from the world, only draw out the best that can be offered.”

 

Darcy hid her blush against Natasha’s sweater.

 

“Your mother would have been very talented too,” Natasha said, pressing a kiss into Darcy’s hair. “I’m sorry my sisters were so afraid of their own lives. But I am very thankful for you and Jane.”

 

“Jane and I are pretty lucky too,” Darcy said easily. “Other people may have cool aunts but they probably don’t take them spirit walking on halloween.”

 

Natasha sniffed. “It’s the only way to celebrate properly.”

 

Darcy wasn’t sure that communing with the dead really sounded like ‘celebrating’ to most people, but she kept that to herself and joined Natasha in harvesting the best of the mint leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEEEE.  
> Hugs, and I hope you liked it!!! I'm a little nervous about this one. (do i say that every time? i'm a nervous person.)
> 
> Next up: 5. Gentleman Callers (which probably needs a new name if I can think of one.)


	6. 5. Gentleman Callers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy has a visitor. And Johnny does too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, apologies to all the perfectly respectable careers i insult in this chapter by implying they are untrustworthy. those are darcy's temporary opinions, not mine!  
> secondly, on friday night my computer took it's last breath. there was champagne involved (for cupcakes, not even for drinking so that was a bummer) so at this point i don't know if i'm getting my hard drive back in tact. and i have 10+ years of writing at risk. Also i have a chapter of this story that wasn't uploaded to google docs. so worst case scenario it may be awhile before i get that rewritten because i'll busy losing my mind. fingers crossed that it's all safe! come see me on tumblr as @ragwitch for updates on that situation as well as a marvel-verse Johnny/Darcy that's in progress and will be finished this week for someone special's b-day ;D  
> Thanks to janetsnakehole for being her stellar self and also my lovely beta! and thanks to bloomsoftly for being the other peanut in our peapod. i don't know what i would have done without you this week. one brain, two bodies bb!!

June 25th 2017

On Sunday Darcy woke before dawn after dreaming of an argument.

It was her first serious fight with Johnny. As a couple.

She was angry with him for springing last minute travel plans on her, always expecting her to leave the shop and house to Jane so she could go to the city gallery parties with him. He turned the argument around to her reluctance to make any progress in their relationship, putting off moving in together and make plans farther out than a month or two. The small, mincing accusations grew longer and more specific, calling out words spoken, excuses made. And Darcy brought up their past. And Johnny brought up her secrets–the pesnya dushi that took too long to come to light.

And then he left the house.

(The scalding ache in her chest at his departure stretched out of the dream and Darcy caught herself rubbing at the spot for the rest of the day.)

She spent the night crying at the kitchen counter and scribbling charms for forgiveness and hexes to forget people into her notebook before scratching them out again.

Johnny was back at the house in the morning, glass-eyed and gray-skinned, carrying breakfast in a white sack that he left in the kitchen before bundling a wincing, weeping Darcy up in his arms. He carried her upstairs and settled them both atop the covers to get some sleep.

Darcy sat up in bed after the dream released her. It was a dusty blue outside with a line of pink along the coast. She stretched her fingers across the mattress, half-searching for the weight of him next to her, the cloying heat he radiated in his sleep, the tangy smell of him. But the bed was empty and that was for the future.

 _Not necessarily_ , she thought. She had botched the end of their evening. _But he always comes back._

In the dreams. He always came back.

Darcy threw back the covers and tiptoed down the stairs to work her anxieties out on a loaf of bread for breakfast. Jane appeared when the sky had bloomed into wild tangerine and rosy hues. Far too early for the average Jane, she must have felt Darcy’s unease soaking into the pores of the house. She made a pot of hot water that Darcy had to recycle back through the coffee maker, that time with the grounds included, and sat to write half-formed notes while Darcy chopped vegetables for a frittata.

“Do the dreams stop?” Darcy asked.

They don’t talk much about Jane and Thor’s connection. Jane doesn’t want to upset Darcy and, to be honest, Darcy doesn’t think she wants to know what life _could_ be any more than she suffers through at night.

“For the most part,” Jane said. “Sometimes I get a little glimpse, a head’s up or a warning or…just a little comfort. But it’s not like it was…before.”

Before Thor arrived at the house and fell in love with Jane on the spot.

_

She spent the day fretting, flipping over one card after the other. _Strength. Ace of Cups. The Lovers_.

She doesn’t really like reading her own tarot. She prefers stubborn denial in the face of change.

Jane sends her out of the house so that she can get work done, so Darcy frets at the tea table outside. She picks a daisy and plucks its petals, feeling guilty all while keeping track of the number. Even or odd? Does or doesn’t? She doesn’t remember which phrase comes first and so she decides that the daisy is a moot point. Johnny Storm might not come back. She can live with that.

But she’s left grateful when a man arrived at the gate. (Even if she was half hoping the car pulling up to the house was a different make and model.) He looked like an insurance salesman. A handsome insurance salesman, but still, somewhat stiff, and a bit untrustworthy. But it takes all kinds to pay the property taxes so Darcy waved him in through the gate.

“You must be Jane,” he said, voice smooth and lilting.

Darcy looked him over once more. Tall and svelte, dark hair perfectly smoothed back, dressed for the office instead of for–well, Darcy had always felt Sunday was for pajamas but maybe that was just her.

“Darcy,” she said. “I’m the fortune teller, she’s the herbalist and she doesn’t work from home so you’ll have to wait till the shop opens tomorrow if you need to see her.”

He blinked and looked over to the white house before turning back to give her a smile that doesn’t reach anywhere but his mouth. “My mistake, I must have confused the names. I came for a reading,” he said, eyeing the deck on the tea table.

“Sixty dollars,” she said, because she didn’t really like him.

He’d already had his wallet out and she saw him smirk and slip a crisp fifty dollar bill back into its place before pulling out three sharp-edged twenties. She took them from his hand and ran her thumb across them, but there didn’t seem to be any deceit woven in. So he was just a wealthy crook.

“Do we sit here?” he asked, gesturing to the tea table. “Or can we step inside? I’m not really dressed for summer.”

Darcy gathered up her cards–this deck was for _her_ only, anyway–and led him to the house.

“It’s very beautiful,” he said, and his tone was shifting, growing more polite as if he’d picked up on her dislike. “Your family built it?”

“Wow, the locals really talk a lot, huh?” she asked.

“I ask a lot of questions,” he said, grimacing in what would have been a charmingly apologetic expression if it weren’t for the fact that she could tell the whole thing was one perfectly packaged lie.

Natasha was a glimmer of red and black in the hall leading to the kitchen. _Keep Jane preoccupied_ , Darcy thought.

“What kind of wood is this?” the man asked, stroking the toe of his shoe along one smooth floorboard.

“Cherry,” Darcy said.

“But the beams are…oak?” he asked, as if it were a guess, pointing up at the ceiling.

“Yeah it’s a bit of a mish-mash,” Darcy said. Cherry for grounding. Oak for protection and power. “Are you a real estate agent?”

He laughed and cleared his throat. “No. No, sorry. Just nosy and a lover of late victorian architecture.”

“What was your name?”

“Ah, right. Lucas Wolffe.” He shifted to hold out his hand to her but Darcy turned to the door before he finished so she could pretend not to have noticed.

“Well Lucas, here we are.” She swept her arm into the sunroom for him to walk ahead of her. “Take a seat and I’ll get organized.”

He prowled around the room and Darcy pretended not to watch him cataloguing the items in the cases as she put her personal deck away and grabbed the standard. He was sitting, face a smooth, innocent mask on his face, when she finished.

Was he here to report her for tax fraud–they’d had an IRS agent investigate their business before and tough luck for them, her record keeping was _pristine_ –or was this something more sinister?

The cards hated him. They spewed gibberish, laying out contradictory messages side by side before going off on an absurd pregnancy tangent that seemed to settle into a personal transformation by the end. Darcy hadn’t seen anything like it since Natasha had thrown up psychic blocks as a test. Which meant that Lucas Wolffe, or whoever he was, was definitely not just an insurance salesman. And that eerily blank facade he wore, coated in normalcy and blandness, was there to keep Darcy from noticing any strains of power.

Better to get him out of the house sooner than go digging for answers, she decided.

So she made up a story about a thwarted inheritance, a betrayal close to the heart, and using his best advantages to rise above the obstacles. If he seemed baffled by her choice to weave a bit of nonsense instead of working with what was in front of her, she used his confusion to hustle him back out of the house and off the property faster.

 

 

  
June 30th 2017

  
Darcy stood in the gravel parking lot, chewing at her lip and listening to some kind of surfy guitar rock pour out of the open garage doors. She could hear a harmony of male voices barking orders and insults and jokes at each other. She just couldn’t bring herself to walk in. She’d spent the week waffling on what to do next, half waiting for Johnny to call or appear at the house, half hoping that her accidental accusation on the porch might be the end of the story.

She’d thrown herself into digging through old Romanova journals, and the internet, and the household collection of book of shadows for protection charms. She’d scryed for whoever Lucas Wolffe claimed to be and come up more than empty, it’d been like bouncing off a mirrored wall. He covered his businesslike ass neatly. Jane had, thankfully, gone on a potions bender, stocking the Lab in her working hours and filling the house with a dense perfume of herbal tinctures at night. She was too distracted to notice that Darcy was in her own kind of frenzy.

And Darcy just kept thinking about those few recent moments where she had someone other than Jane to talk to, to listen to. The small flow of conversation between her and Johnny had felt, if not always easy, honest with a new and gentle kind of cautiousness. Something close to friendly.

She walked up to the garage door and found three unfamiliar men working around the room. The first to notice her was a giant of a man, with waxy skin that rippled and pulled over half his face and down both his arms. He was leaving the glory hole, blow pipe in a dense fist, and walking up to the bench when he saw her and seemed to try to shrink into himself.

 _Burns_. She blinked and then gave him a small smile and nod.

“Johnny’s not here.”

Darcy turned to the gruff voice. Two men stood together, pulling dense bricks of textured glass out of the annealer and loading them onto a cart. One stepped forward, arms folded across his wide chest. He had long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a long sleeve covering one arm. He was smirking at her while the blonde man behind him continued working, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes. The blonde looked familiar, and a little like Johnny.

“He left for the night,” the smirking man said. “Sorry, hun.”

She had passed Johnny’s CRV on her way in, but there was something in the man’s amused gaze that told her this was a routine for him now. And one he found humor in.

“Right,” she said. “Sorry. Tell him Darcy stopped by.”

“Darcy.”

She glanced back to the man at the bench who was exchanging wide-eyed looks with the other two.

“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll go get him.”

“Ben, wait-” said the dark haired one, reaching out with his sleeved arm. The sleeve ran all the way down to cover his hand. “Damn,” he said, when Ben left the room and then he turned back to her with a narrow gaze. “So, you’re Darcy.”

“Buck,” the blonde warned.

“We have heard a _lot_ about you,” Buck said, grin spreading. “Johnny’s been a pouty little shit-stain this week ‘cause of you.”

The blonde sighed and shook his head. “To be fair, Johnny’s usually some kind of little shit-stain.”

Darcy barked out a surprised laugh and then cocked her head. She remembered that lovely deep voice.

“You’re Johnny’s cousin,” she said.

“Steve,” he said, and then lifted his hand in a small wave.

“You know, I honestly didn’t think Johnny had very good taste in women but…” the other man looked her up and down and Darcy tried not preen.

“Jesus, Bucky,” Steve sighed.

Bucky turned back to Steve with a sheepish smile. “What? She’s a peach.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said. Ben seemed to be taking his time, and she was feeling pretty grateful at this point. “I take it Johnny is here, then?”

“Oh yeah, he’s here,” Bucky said easily, as if he hadn’t just told her the opposite. “But you should’ve seen the parade that was comin’ round the last few weeks. So we keep pretty boy in the back now. Tell me, doll, they put drugs in the water on this island?”

Ah. It was official. Darcy really liked this guy.

“Haven’t they told you?” Darcy asked, waiting for Bucky to perk up with interest. “It’s the witches up on the cliff. They’re out there casting love spells all willy nilly.”

Bucky laughed and Steve grinned and said, “That’s funny, I heard they were the good kind of witches.”

Darcy shook her head. “No, no. The incompetent kind.”

“Shut up, shut up, everyone shut up,” Johnny panted, running into the room. He halted a few yards back from Darcy and stared at her for a long second, taking in her smile, and then narrowed his eyes at Steve and Bucky. “What’d they say?”

“I hadn’t even started to tell her about what you said about her knees being the–”

“I will rip off your other arm, Barnes,” Johnny said quickly, pointing a bandaged finger at Bucky.

“I’d still be better looking,” Bucky said with a shrug, and Steve nodded sympathetically at Johnny from the background.

“Shit,” Johnny said, shoulders drooping and casting short, furtive glances at Darcy. She wasn’t sure if he was conceding to Bucky being better looking or was frustrated at her presence.

“Is now an okay time to talk?” she asked. He could say ‘no’ this way. That he was busy. And she would walk back home and that would be an end.

“He’s free. He’s been twiddling his thumbs all fucking week,” Bucky said from behind her.

Johnny winced and glared at the other man before looking back at Darcy and nodding. “Yeah. Yeah…let’s…let’s talk somewhere these assholes can’t chime in.”

“I dunno, I kind of like this peanut gallery,” Darcy said but she walked up to Johnny and he stumbled back a few steps.

“You come back when you’re done with him, doll,” Bucky called.

“Bucky, just, go make out with Steve or something,” Johnny growled.

“You said we had to act professional in the shop, though,” Steve said, light and teasing.

“Okay, well now I’m saying have at it,” Johnny said.

“Oh, thanks,” Ben said softly from the bench. He had scrapped the first pipe when Darcy arrived and was starting over again.

Johnny huffed, looked hard at Darcy, who was feeling a little more at ease with him off-kilter, and then rubbed at his face with his hand. “Let’s go in the cold shop.”

Darcy followed Johnny back to the swinging doors Ben had vanished behind earlier. They walked into a cool, open room, with a long metal table lined with more finished textured bricks of glass. There were a few tools sitting out that looked liked they’d been abandoned unceremoniously in the wake of her arrival.

“I like your guys,” she said as the doors swung shut behind them.

“They’re assholes, don’t listen to them,” Johnny said quickly. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, eyes darting around the room like he’d just invited her into his bedroom and was checking to make sure no porn or dirty underwear was left lying out. He added, “But yeah, they’re okay, I guess.”

She smiled and lowered her chin to try to hide it.

“I wanted to call,” he said and she looked up to meet his eyes. “But I know I dropped a bomb last week and then I…”

“Do you want to go out to the park with me on Sunday?” she asked. “I can pack a picnic.”

Johnny dropped back onto a stool, never looking away from her face. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “If I fucked things up too much in the past. You don’t have try.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and walked over to perch on the stool next to his, trying not to be offended by the way he seemed to shrink away from her. “Look, dude. You’ve had how many years to think about this? To come up with apologies and plans and dates. And to think about…about,” she waved her hands between them. “You know. This. What you want. And I…I thought I closed the door on the Johnny Storm saga a long time ago.”

“I know. I know, Darcy,” he started.

“No. You don’t.” She stiffened in place. “I just…You have this whole map in your head of where you want to go and I am…blind in this. But I know it’s not a joke. I’m sorry I said that.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said. He was rubbing his hands over the knees of his jeans and it reminded her to ask.

“What _did_ you say about my knees?”

Johnny coughed out a breath and bent at the waist, shaking his head down at the floor and muttering something about ‘arms.’

“You owe me,” she said, testing the waters.

He peeked at her between the longer strands of hair in his face. “I said they were pretty,” he muttered.

“You said my knees were pretty?” She asked, surprised.

He groaned and sat back up, leaning against the table behind him. “I said they were the prettiest,” he said, sharp and clear.

“The prettiest…knees.”

“You know,” he said shrugging. Which, no, she really didn’t. “Knees are just…knees. But yours are nice.”

“The nicest?” she asked - for clarity, of course - and he laughed and blushed. “Is ‘knees’ a euphemism or…”

Johnny’s laugh grew louder and she watched the smile stretch across his face, squeezing at the corners of his eyes. “Shit. Don’t get me started.” He turned and looked at her from underneath thick lashes and Darcy felt herself go hot.

Right. That was stupid.

“You invited me to a picnic,” he said, as if he’d just managed to digest her words.

“A second date,” she said.

“On Sunday. This Sunday?”

She shrugged, “Or next.”

“No, this Sunday.”

Johnny’s growing smile was interrupted by the door swinging open and a red faced Steve creeping into the room.

“Just looking for…a thing,” Steve said under his breath, edging around the room, scanning the shelves while continuously checking on Johnny and Darcy from the corner of his eyes.

Johnny rolled his eyes on the stool and mouthed ‘Barnes’ at Darcy.

“Hummm,” Steve said. “Maybe it’s _not_ here.” He scratched his chin and Darcy stifled a laugh behind her hand as he shrugged at them, all exaggerated shoulders and open hands, and then backed out of the room.

“I should go,” Darcy said.

Johnny frowned a little and then nodded. “I’d convince you to stay but Bucky would just pop in after another couple minutes and I think it’s better if I limit his opportunities to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I am definitely planning on getting more out of him,” Darcy said with a laugh. “Fair warning. He’s my new best friend.”

Johnny stood and she had to arch back to get a good look at the smile on his face, soft and wicked and fond all mixed together making her light up from head to toe.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he said in a tone better suited to whispers in bedrooms. “Don’t be mad.”

Johnny was very close, and Darcy realized it all at once. The toes of his sneakers were nudging at hers and he smelled like bitter sweat and lemon and eucalyptus. She wondered what his shoulders would feel like under her hands. Would he have to bend if she rose up on her tip toes? She’d told herself she _hadn’t_ come for that kiss. She wasn’t here to learn if the taste of him matched the flavor in her sleep - salt and chapstick and mint gum. But being this close felt like laying out in the sun, falling asleep on a blanket all boneless and safe and she just _wondered_. What would it be like?

His fingers caught against hers and Darcy looked down to see him curl his large hand over hers. Dainty. His thumb pressed into her palm and the scrape of skin sent a thick curl of pleasure down her back and into her belly. He released her hand and stepped back.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” he said.

“Yeah.” She blinked. _Damn_ , she thought. She turned to go, trying to ignore the weightlessness in her feet.

“Should I bring anything?” he asked.

She almost turned back, but she didn’t trust herself not to take a running leap and give Bucky something to crow over when he walked in on them any minute.

“Surprise me,” she said.

Bucky was suspiciously close to the door as she walked out, and even then it was Steve who jumped guiltily from across the room where he’d been watching.

“Aw, doll, you leavin’ already?” Bucky asked sweetly.

“You guys can come up to the house, _anytime_ ,” Darcy said, patting Bucky on his shoulder as she passed, waving to Steve and Ben in turn. “I’ll make you dinner and read your cards free of charge.”

“We’ll take you up on that. But do we gotta bring Storm?” Bucky asked.

“Not without warning me first,” Darcy said under her breath and Bucky cackled.

“Barnes, whatever you’re doing I don’t like it,” Johnny yelled from inside the cold shop.

Darcy buried her grin and hurried out to her bike, flipping on the safety lights now that it was dark out and starting home. The trip home was cool and she found herself continuously fighting off a smile. She decided she liked baffled, nervous Johnny. And she very evidently liked intent and pleased Johnny if her reaction to him in the cold shop was anything to go by.

After the initial shock, and anger, and earth-shifting change in perspective from his confessions during the date she thought she might have found something to understand in their current interactions. This wasn’t a new twist to Johnny’s feelings that she had to weigh the risk in trusting. This was a new perspective on a very old problem. One she understood better now. She was still shocked, and still angry, but she thought maybe, _maybe_ , she could find the upper hand in the dynamic. Johnny would push them forward, but he backed off when she asked him to and…

And he kept coming back.

Darcy rolled up the gate and stepped down from the bike and the ground wobbled below her feet. She paused in step, glancing down at the dirt - still firm - and then around her. She leaned forward and the air in front of her seesawed, like something left too far to the edge of a table. She reached out to the gate and felt the threads of the property wards loose around her fingers.

Shit.

“Jane!” she called, dropping her bike to unlatch the gate. She ran up the stones to the house. “Jane!! Jane, the house-”

Jane stretched her body out the window of the kitchen. “The wards are loose,” she said, mouth tight.

Darcy skidded in step and then hurried to meet Jane in the greenhouse.

“You’re alright-”

“I went to the Lab and when I came back-”

They both took a deep breath and then Darcy jumped forward to wrap her arms around her cousin - her sister, really.

“I’m okay,” Jane said. “The house is okay. The wards are still up, but…”

“But those were _Natasha’s_ ,” Darcy whispered. “Who could even find a thread to pull on those?”

“I don’t know. But they didn’t get in. And they were long gone when I got back.” Jane squeezed Darcy once more before pulling back. “Is she here?”

Darcy took a breath, trying to shake off the grip of dread that had squeezed at her heart. She closed her eyes and searched for the bright spot of Natasha’s presence nearby. The grounding strength of the house surrounded her, settling the trembles in her hands. Jane’s fizzy, sharp energy was at her side. And somewhere, but not near, there was a soft brush of affection and care.

“Close,” Darcy said. “But not here.”

“If we needed to worry, she would be here,” Jane said with firm surety.

Darcy nodded. “Okay. Okay. I have to tell you something.”

And she unloaded the tale of Lucas Wolffe coming for a reading, asking for Jane, scoping out the house and their sunroom, giving the bogus fortune before chasing him back out again. Jane’s brow furrowed as she listened.

“That’s why you keep putting Patchouli oil in my conditioner?” Jane asked.

“Umm…yes. He said your name and I was afraid maybe he was looking for you,” Darcy said quickly.

“No one like that’s been in the shop so it’s probably more likely that it’s us and the house,” Jane said with a wave of her hand.

“Okay… what do we do?”

“Make tea,” Jane said, as if it were obvious. “And get to work. Do you think you can reinforce the wards?”

Darcy considered this. Her wards weren’t _bad_ but they weren’t Natasha’s. But her magic worked well with her aunt’s and the magic in place might take hers without much struggle.

“It’ll be a patch job,” she said.

“It’s a start,” Jane said. “I’ll start pulling books. We might need to lay a few snares.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave me some sugar! <3 You have all been so incredible throughout this story (and many of you before it too!!) and I'm so determined to keep on top of these updates thanks to all of your support!
> 
> Next week: A chapter that is yet untitled but is almost 10K words!!


	7. 6. Wide Open Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week of progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE YOU PEOPLE A LOT YOU ARE WONDERFUL THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE  
> Thank you janetsnakehole and bloomsoftly for beta-ing and life saving me!
> 
> My hard drive is now loaded onto a functioning computer and I'm back in action although a little behind in my writing goals for this story. But I still have one safety chapter for this so I'll try and keep up! Thank you for all your well wishes this week!
> 
> This chapter is twice the length of any of the others and covers a lot of ground so buckle in my darlings and I hope you enjoy!

July 1 st 2017

 

“We  _ need  _ banishing magic,” Jane grumbled, flipping through dusty pages.

 

“The moon is waxing,” Darcy said.

 

“I  _ know _ the moon is waxing, Darcy,” Jane said, lifting up a heavy tome to hide the scowl on her face. “And  _ I _ didn’t even have to look at the calendar to tell.”

 

Darcy narrowed her eyes at Jane and then went back to her own collection of books. “We could make an egg tree.”

 

“We don’t have any dead trees,” Jane said. Oh, yeah, Darcy just got to that part. “So unless you want to get pregnant…”

 

Darcy huffed and sank back in her chair, pushing at the piles of books in front of her and barely scooting them an inch. “What are we doing? We have charms and sigils and wards up the wazzoo but if this guy can get in…” She pulled her glasses off her face and rubbed at her eyes. 

 

“He didn’t get in,” Jane said.

 

“I  _ waved _ him in,” Darcy said. “He has been  _ in _ the house, Jane.”

 

“Yeah, when he came to scope it out and get a phony reading,” Jane said, setting her book down and reaching across the dining room table–which only ever ended up used for study and never eating–to take Darcy’s hand. “But he didn’t  _ break _ the wards.”

 

“He could have,” Darcy whispered. She met Jane’s eyes and their faces were mirrored and grave.

 

Jane sank back in her own chair. “Where is Natasha?” 

 

“She’s hiding. She wants us to solve this,” Darcy said.

 

“I’m thirty years old. I don’t need another lesson,” Jane said, with just a hint of petulance.

 

“Come on,” Darcy said, slipping out of her chair. “It’s three in the morning and we have to be in the shop tomorrow. The house will stand for the night.” She held out her hand and waited for Jane to take it in hers.

 

“You wanna sleep in my room?” Jane asked, leaning into Darcy’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

They slipped into Jane’s old four poster, Darcy falling back onto the pillows and Jane clamping herself around Darcy’s middle. In another hour Darcy rose–Jane had tossed and turned until she was spread  eagle across her half of the bed and a bit of Darcy’s body–and gathered every blue stone she could find in the house. She bundled up the aquamarine that sat on the windowsill in the bathroom, and her own raw sapphire earrings, and the sodalite chunk on the mantle, and the iolite-encrusted trinket box from Natasha’s room. She snuck them out into the chilly night and settled them at the four corners of the property before tiptoeing back inside.

 

She slid back under the covers, trying not to jostle Jane more than necessary–the little woman could cover a standard king bed as if she were the size of Thor. 

 

“Good thinking,” Jane whispered at her, half-asleep. She wrinkled her nose and pulled away. “Your toes are cold and wet.”

  
  


July 2 nd 2017

  
  


Johnny was laying across the old plaid blanket she’d laid out for their lunch, his arms stretched back and head resting in the palms of his hands. His eyes were closed, face turned into the sunlight and Darcy was cataloguing the number of things she wanted to do in that moment. 

 

She wanted to tease the line of her fingernail up from the cuff of his t-shirt, around the muscle on the inside of his arm where the skin was paler and down to the hollow of his elbow. 

 

She wanted to lean down and stroke her nose along his temple, hear his quiet breathing in her ear, feel the prickle of his stubble on the tips of her fingers while she turned his face to hers.

 

She wanted to press her palm down onto his chest until she could feel his heart thumping against the cup of her hand.

 

She wanted to settle astride him and tuck her face into his neck and take deep breaths until her lungs were full of him.

 

Johnny turned his head and blinked one eye open, smile creeping across his face and dimple winking at her. “Am I being boring?”

 

Darcy blushed, grateful she’d left her hair down to hide behind. “Nope. Came out here for the quiet.”

 

He hummed. “Yeah, don’t think I ever really came out here for the nature before.”

 

Darcy blinked and her stomach rolled. Right. The park was where Johnny brought his dates so they could mess around. She smirked bitterly and twisted in place, leaving him her back so she could pretend to dig for a snack.

 

Now she wanted to be one of those girls, spread out on a blanket under the hot weight of Johnny Storm. She felt her hair shift, felt a snag worked loose, and then the barest brush against the back of her blouse. She ignored the prompt and scooted to the edge of the blanket to put a line of food between herself and Johnny.

  
  


July 3 rd 2017

 

Darcy sucked at her bruised thumb, grimacing at the juniper sap flavor she found. She pulled another sprig up from the pile and set back to work, weaving the pieces through the spiral of willow she’d twisted together into a large hoop. 

 

“Here,” Jane came out the open front door, carrying a basket of brown and white feathers on one arm, and a bowl of steaming ward water in her hands. “That’s huge. Is it going to fit on the door?”

 

“I took measurements,” Darcy said. “Bigger can’t  _ hurt _ .”

 

Jane stepped carefully down the steps and then reached back to pull a small paintbrush from out of the nest of her hair. She dipped it into the water and then stroked the bristles along the edge of the first step.

 

“I’ve been scrying,” Darcy said.

 

Jane nodded while she worked. “If you found something you’d have told me.”

 

Darcy slipped an iron nail through a gap in the branches under the juniper and then covered the glimpse of it with a speckled feather. “It’s like…It’s like a one-way mirror. But I’m on the wrong side.”

 

Jane stiffened and then pulled back from her work. “Then you should stop.”

 

Darcy nodded, focusing on the hoop in her lap, pinning a bit of lavender through the juniper. “That’s what I thought.”

  
  


July 4 th 2017

 

Darcy was reaching that lovely fuzzy in place in meditation where she lost track of  _ her _ and just became breath and a beating heart when someone knocked on the front door. She flicked it away from her mind and took another slow, sliding draw of air, settling back into her pattern. There was another knock.

 

“Darcy! Door,” Jane hollered from the kitchen.

 

Darcy sighed, resisting the urge to shout back, and unfolded from the sunroom floor. She padded down the hall, reaching little tendrils of curiosity to the door. It felt friendly.

 

Bucky was grinning on the other side. 

 

“Hey, doll.”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Bucky’s smile only grew. 

 

“Sorry,” Darcy shook off her surprise. “I mean, hi, Bucky.”

 

“Came to see if you and your cuz wanted to join us at Johnny’s. He’s got a deck with a good view of the docks so we’re grilling burgers and watching the fireworks.”

 

Darcy looked around the edge of the porch to see Steve leaning out of the driver’s side of a truck. He waved and she waved back.

 

“Does Johnny know you’re here?” she asked.

 

“No, but he said I could bring somebody.”

 

“He meant Steve, didn’t he?”

 

“He did mean Steve, yeah,” Bucky said, shrugging. 

 

“Well. I guess he should have been more specific then,” Darcy said. “Go get Steve out of the car cause it’s gonna take a bit to tear Jane away from a project, and I’m not going to a barbecue in my yoga pants and sports bra.”

 

“But you look so cute,” Bucky said with a wink, before turning and waving Steve over to them.

 

“Are you here doing Johnny a favor or are you trying to irritate him by showing up with me on your arm?” Darcy asked, smiling.

 

“Don’t see why it can’t be a bit of both,” Bucky said.

 

Steve met them on the porch and Darcy led the pair inside and through the entry and dining room over to the kitchen. Bucky followed close but Steve stopped at every framed photo and side table covered with stones and candles. They both paused at the coat rack where a tidy line of brooms in different lengths and woods hung, ready for use.

 

“For cleansing,” she said, before rolling open the door to the kitchen.

 

A cloud of honeysuckle and lilac steam poured out, revealing Jane over the cauldron, a fire burning bright in the old stove. The room was humid and the smell was cloying and Jane’s hair was damp and curling around her intent and sharp expression. 

 

“Witches.” Darcy heard Bucky whisper the word but it was touched with a bit of awe so she moved farther into the room and let them follow.

 

Darcy watched as Jane wrinkled her nose, standing up on tiptoes to peer inside the black pot, before turning to the island and pinching a few rose stems up between her fingers. She pulled a short, sharp knife out from the back pocket of her jeans–Darcy would be having words with her about that–and sliced the thorns off the stem and directly into the pot.

 

“So…what’s cooking?” Bucky asked. Steve spun slowly in place, lips slightly parted as he took in the room with wide eyes.

 

“Body armor,” Jane said.

 

Steve stopped and he and Bucky exchanged a startled look.

 

“Jane, we have company,” Darcy said.

 

“I see that,” Jane said, even though she hadn’t looked at the men yet. She dumped a small bowl of ash into the pot and went to whisking. “Who are they?”

 

“Friends of Johnny’s.”

 

That stopped her. She looked over from the pot and gave Bucky and Steve two long, examining stares, squinting at Bucky and making him shift in place. “Why are they here?”

 

“To take us to a party.”

 

“Are we going?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

Jane met Darcy’s eyes and Darcy tried to press to the other woman,  _ please don’t make me go alone _ . Jane couldn’t read her mind exactly. But it was a very close thing after all these years.

 

“Alright,” Jane said, tapping the whisk against the cauldron and setting it to the side. She ducked into the pantry and came out again with a small silver tin. She stepped up to Bucky and pressed it into his hand. “For the nerve damage,” she said, glancing at his sleeved arm. Then she went back to the stove and ladled out a helping of the guarding water into a jar and passed it to Darcy. “Put that on after you change.”

 

Darcy smiled at a stunned Steve and Bucky with a small shrug. “Feel free to wander, but don’t touch anything that looks weird. Jane, make polite conversation.”

 

Jane grunted over the stove and Darcy decided to hurry.

 

But by the time she made it back downstairs, in a soft old dress and smelling faintly of flowers, Bucky had Jane giggling and blushing and Steve was sitting up on the island, licking chocolate from his fingers.

 

“Don’t know why your house was s’posed to be so scary when we were kids,” Steve murmured to her. 

 

“Just rumors,” Darcy said with another shrug. 

 

“Johnny was always trying to convince me to sneak up here with him,” he said. “Think he just wanted to come inside.”

 

Darcy hummed, shying away from the topic and Jane damped down the fire. As they left the house, Jane’s pan of emergency brownies in hand, Darcy hung a rusted a key on a red ribbon from the inside of the door wreath. She turned and Bucky was there, eyes flicking between her and the key.

 

“You having issues, doll?” he asked.

 

Darcy skipped down the steps ahead of him. “Nothing serious,” she lied.

 

When they walked into Johnny’s apartment as a group, the room went quiet. It was only Johnny, Ben, and Sue with her husband and kids. Darcy wondered for a moment if this was really the place for her and Jane to pop-up uninvited. Johnny was standing, taking up a narrow doorway with his broad shoulders and a foil lined tray full of grill tools. His arms dropped for a second and the tools slid noisily to the edge of the tray before he righted them.

 

“Hey,” he said.

 

“Storm,” Jane said drily.

 

Darcy half-smiled and glanced to find everyone’s eyes ping-ponging between her and Johnny.

 

Johnny grinned, eyes fixed to her face. “You want a drink?”

 

Later, after they had eaten and the fireworks had started, Johnny joined Darcy against the wall of his deck. A warm palm found the base of her back and she let herself lean into his shoulder.

 

“I guess I won’t kill Bucky,” Johnny whispered into her ear as firework spiraled up into the sky with a whistle. The bang of the explosion hid her bubble of laughter. “Can I drive you and Jane home, after?”

 

Darcy thought it over. She and Jane could always walk home. Or they could leave whenever Steve and Bucky decided to call it a night. If they waited for Johnny they would be the last ones to leave. Jane turned to look at Darcy over her shoulder from where she was sitting between Sue and Steve. She nodded once.

 

“Alright,” Darcy said, and then she leaned a little further into Johnny’s side until his arm was around her back and his hand was curling around her hip. “Want to go watch the movie in the park with me this Friday?”

 

They were playing Bell, Book, and Candle which was one of her favorite oldies. She suspected it was a nasty joke on Grace Harper’s part–who had  _ definitely _ been glaring at her in the coffee shop the other morning–given it was about a witch casting a love spell on a man and having the consequences backfire onto herself. But it had a happy ending and Kim Novak played the witch, so Darcy didn’t really care. It would be their third planned date. And even more public than the first, since there wasn’t much else to do on Friday nights on the island. But Darcy  _ wanted  _ Johnny to sit next to her in the dark, and she wanted him to walk her home, and she wanted to kiss him on her porch and not mess it up this time. She wanted to  _ try _ . 

 

“Yes,” Johnny said firmly.

  
  
  


July 5 th 2017

 

The docks were quiet and the moon, only a few days from full, was staring back at Darcy from over the water. Jane was working in the Lab and Darcy had taken a walk to check her protection jars at the docks. They were all broken.

 

She nudged the shattered glass with the toe of her sneaker and it clinked gently. She crouched down, carefully flicking the sharp edges to the side. The rusty nails and herbs were missing–had been  _ removed _ from the collection–so she brushed the rest of the debris into the water below to be purified and washed away. Lucas Wolffe was pulling bricks out of the Romanova walls that protected the island and Darcy was about ready to start throwing hexes around. 

 

She rose up and turned back to the town, eyes reflexively seeking out the balcony deck of Johnny’s apartment. She could see lights on through the blinds and she had an urge to go knocking on his door. She liked the feel of his arm across her back and wondered what it would be like to curl up against his side doing something as mundane as watching tv together. Would she be able to pay attention to the screen? Or, if they were alone this time, would she stretch against him, press her face into his skin, take a taste of the back corner of his jaw, just below his ear where there was a line of three freckles?

 

He hadn’t tried to kiss her again, even when Jane had rushed out of the back seat the night before, leaving them alone in Johnny’s car together. He was waiting for her, just like Natasha had said, and Darcy felt paralyzed with the choice in her own hands. But he touched her, her hands, her back. He’d set his hand at the back of her neck at one point while she’d been talking to Sue in his kitchen, running his thumb back and forth across her shoulder, and she’d very nearly crumpled against him.

 

A shadow crossed the light of Johnny’s blinds, his shadow, a hand flicking them to the side as he reached for the handle. Darcy pulled her hoodie up and marched herself back to the Lab to drag Jane home for the night.

  
  


July 6 th 2017

 

Darcy came up from the Lab basements, hefting a box of jars for Jane to fill, and found a to-go cup of coffee waiting on the counter for her. 

 

“Johnny dropped it off,” Jane said, smirking as she took the box out of Darcy’s arms. “He brought me one too, but he didn’t write a note on the sleeve.”

 

Darcy waited until Jane went into the back to pick the coffee up off the counter.

 

_ See you tomorrow _ . There was a scribble underneath the words, something firmly covered in black sharpie and then a little  _ :) _ to the side.

 

She took a quick sip and pressed her lips together to fight off her smile. Who had given him her coffee order?

  
  
  


July 7 th 2017

 

Darcy tried not to enjoy the look of utter outrage on Grace Harper’s face as Johnny spread a blanket out on the ground and then waited for Darcy to take her seat first. She failed. But she tried.

 

“I’m gonna need you to fact check this movie for me while we watch,” Johnny said.

 

“It’s all nonsense,” Darcy said immediately.

 

“Now, see, that is a disappointment,” he said. “Because I was really looking forward to you taking me to an underground beatnik witch club.”

 

“Oh, no, that part is accurate. You’re right.” She grinned at him and his eyes flicked to her mouth.

 

And then another couple, unfamiliar summer renters, settled their own blanket nearby and the moment settled and drifted away.

 

They sat, stretched out, side by side for the first half of the movie, fingers brushing together on the blanket. Johnny seemed a little embarrassed at first by the love spell plot, and he grimaced at Darcy and whispered another, shorter apology which she shrugged off with a light bump against his shoulder. He shifted a few minutes after that, inched closer to her so that their arms brushed. The warmth of the day was rolling off the island back out over the water and goosebumps were raising on her arms and neck. Darcy tucked her hand–the one that wasn’t soaking up Johnny’s preternatural heat–inside the sleeve of her sweater.

 

“I’m cold,” she whispered to him halfway through.

 

He blinked and frowned, sitting up and reaching for the zipper of his sweater shirt. “You want-”

 

She shook her head and shuffled up onto her knees, trying not to block anyone’s view.

 

“Just, let me…” She pushed his knees to either side and then crawled into the space available, biting her lip as he sucked in a breath.

 

She settled back slightly, just barely leaning against his chest. “Can I…?”

 

Johnny folded himself around her, filling in the gaps with warmth and closeness. His arms wrapped around her middle and she rested her hands over his sleeves, body softening against him. She could feel his face against the side of her head, heard him take a long breath.

 

“You might need to fill me in later on what happens in the second half of this movie,” he whispered into her hair.

 

Darcy smiled up at Kim Novak’s pout on the large screen. Johnny re-tangled their arms together, taking her hands in his and curling her up tighter in his hold. 

 

_

 

Johnny was a surprisingly smooth driver for only using one hand. His other was linked with Darcy’s on top of the center console. The car was quiet but now it was a comfortable silence between them. And every so often…

 

Johnny squeezed Darcy’s hand in his and they both looked out their windows to hide their smiles.

 

He was going to walk her to her door again and this time-

 

“Is that smoke?” Johnny asked, straightening up.

 

Darcy leaned to look out his driver’s side window and saw it immediately, a small trail of blue smoke in the night sky, and a faint dome of orange near the ground.

 

“That’s the house,” she said. She dropped Johnny’s hand and tried to perch higher in the car to see better. A sharp stab of dread pierced her stomach and she dove to the floor, knocking her head lightly against the dashboard. “Jane.”

 

“Bonfire?”

 

“She was supposed to be at the Lab,” Darcy said. More for her own personal relief than for Johnny. 

 

They were bumping faster along the road now, and Darcy wanted to spare a thank you to Johnny for the urgency but she couldn’t find her damn phone in the dark and why did her purse have so many fucking receipts in it? Her fingers slipped over the smooth case and she pressed hard against the home button.

 

No Signal. 

 

“Fuck,” she muttered.

 

Johnny reached into his own pocket and pulled out his phone, grimacing at the screen. “Sorry. Almost there.”

 

The tires kicked up stones as they sped around a corner, headlights swerving and flashing over to the house.

 

“The gate is open,” Darcy said. She was unbuckling her seatbelt before Johnny had even started to brake.

 

“Darcy. Wait for me!”

 

But he was still putting the car into park underneath the border oak when she was jumping out of the passenger seat. The world spun at the gate for a moment and the sound of Johnny’s car door slamming was amplified in her head like a gunshot.

 

The wards were broken. 

 

Johnny caught up to her inside the property, halfway between the house and the small, innocent looking fire, that was burning up her juniper door wreath.

 

“It looks like brush,” he said. “Is Jane-?”

 

“It’s not brush. It’s a protection charm I made for the house,” Darcy said, whirling on Johnny. “Our wards are broken. And Jane’s not here. But someone else is, and I think you should go back to the car.”

 

Johnny reeled back at the sharp bite in her voice and she pushed past him. The house was dark but she could see the front door hanging open and she stormed over to the steps. She was going to tear Lucas Wolffe a new asshole for breaking into her home. Magically and physically. She was going to bind him up so tight he’d have trouble catching a breath to answer her demands.

 

Johnny’s hand wrapped around hers as she was inspecting the ash footprints on her doorstep and she whipped so fast around that she saw him flinch away from her swinging hair. She opened her mouth to rip into him. His free hand wrapped around her waist, warm and firm and solidly reassuring. Her mouth shut as horrible wave of nerves and longing swept through her and she battled the irrational urge to curl into his chest and cower there.

 

“I believe you,” he said in a whisper. Darcy blinked, startled. “I believe you that this is out of my depth. But I’m not letting you go inside alone, okay?”

 

She sagged slightly, and Johnny’s thumb stroked against her ribs. She nodded, squeezed his hand, and turned back to the footprints. She ran one finger through the ash and lifted it up to her nose.

 

“Magic dust?” Johnny whispered.

 

_ Oh dear _ , thought a farther corner of Darcy’s brain.  _ He’s got a lot to learn _ .

 

“Chicory,” she said and Johnny looked puzzled. There was blood in the ash, too, and Darcy wiped it off on her jeans. “It’s like a magical invisibility trick.”

 

There was a rustle from deeper inside the house, on the south end near the sun room.

 

Darcy ran in, Johnny close at her back.

 

“You’re supposed to call the police,” Johnny whispered. “For intruders.”

 

“The police are asshats and they won’t make it in time. But sure, phone’s in the kitchen,” Darcy hissed.

 

Johnny didn’t answer, just followed her down the dark hall, hands at her waist. 

 

At the door to the sunroom something uncoiled in Darcy’s a stomach. A thick, spinning, queasiness that had her wavering in step. It reminded her of the psychic attack on Natasha when she was younger, but this time it was sludgy and liquid and rising up her throat. There was a shadow in the room, amorphous and quick, and her eyes were blurring, the flavor of gasoline at the back of her mouth.

 

“Oh,” she said and then slid into the doorjamb and down to the floor.

 

“Darcy!” Johnny’s exclamation startled the shadow, and it sent one of the old glass cases crashing to the floor

 

Darcy’s insides were doing strange, rearranging, dances in her chest and stomach and she slapped a hand over her mouth to try and keep everything inside.

 

There was a bright flash in the room and Johnny charged in but Darcy had to tuck her face into her shoulder as her eyes watered and stung from the light. Everything was silvery bright and blinding, angry explosions of fireworks behind her eyes and clanging through her head.

 

“Johnny,” she whimpered.

 

She could hear Johnny grunt and then a hiss and crackle of fire and she winced and tried to stare in the room. There was something burning on the floor, and Johnny was grappling by the window with a dark shape that was more ink and smoke than it was person. Darcy crawled into the room and gagged as another rush of syrupy poison rolled in her gut. It was a book of shadows on the floor. It was Natasha’s.

 

“Johnny,” she said again, but it was barely a breath. 

 

There was another crash and shatter and Johnny fell back onto the floor as the darkness scrambled out of the window. Darcy thought she saw simple black pants and shoes for a moment but then they shifted back into a gauzy shadow and disappeared into the depth of night.

 

“Fire,” she said, catching a gasp of air.

 

Johnny twisted on the floor and Darcy blinked itchy tears out of her eyes just in time to see Johnny slam his bare hands down onto the burning book.

 

“No!” she cried out. “Oh, you idiot.”

 

She scrabbled forward through the glass shards and gathered up a large brass bowl meant for mixing tonics before slamming it down over the smoldering pages, Johnny pulling his hands free just in time.

 

“Glass,” Johnny said, staring at her.

 

“You set your fucking hands on fire, Johnny,” she said, glaring back at him.

 

“Not the first time,” he said, sitting up and glancing down at his hands. There were bright splotches of damage across the palms. “What the fuck was that? The bogeyman?”

 

Darcy fell to her forearms on the carpet, slivers of glass scratching against her skin. “Witch. Bad witch. He wants something from the house.”

 

“Stop,” Johnny said, stumbling up from the floor. “Stop laying in glass, Darce.”

 

“Stop setting yourself on fucking fire, Johnny,” she yelled. “Why are you a walking, talking burn mark? Don’t they teach you anything about fire safety in glassblowing school?”

 

Johnny snorted softly and then crouched down at her side. “You okay? C’mere. Put your arms around my neck.”

 

Darcy sat up and brushed the glass off her arms–she wasn’t  _ that _ scratched up–and then held onto Johnny’s shoulders as he used his forearms to scoop around her waist and under her knees, lifting her off the floor.

 

“Kitchen,” she instructed him. “I need tea.”

 

“You need to call the police.”

 

“I need to call  _ Jane _ .”

 

They exchanged unhappy expressions, Johnny’s stern and tense and Darcy’s scrunched with the effort of keeping a scream inside. But the anger crumpled quickly and Darcy pressed her face into Johnny’s neck to keep the tears at bay.

 

“Are you alright?” she whispered.

 

“Yeah,” Johnny said, leaning his cheek against her hair. “I’ll heal. Might not pick up a blow pipe this week, but it wouldn’t be the first time.”

 

“Not that,” Darcy said leaning back to fix a glare on his face. “I can fix that. I meant…you know…you fought a shadow. You tried to punch a shadow.”

 

“Hey, I  _ did _ punch that shadow. That shadow had a face underneath it. Which…is freaking me out a little, yeah. Which way?”

 

Darcy pointed him to the kitchen and she flicked the light on as they passed the wall.

 

“Set me down,” Darcy said.

 

“Kinda don’t want to,” he said, wincing and squeezing her a little closer.

 

“Set me down so I can make tea, and fix your hands, and call Jane.”

 

“The police,” he said.

 

“Johnny, the police won’t listen to us,” Darcy said. “You just admitted that you punched a shadow in the face.”

 

“I’m not putting you down until you agree to call the police. It’s breaking and entering even if it is a shadow. They have to do something and you need to have this on record,” Johnny said. He looked a little wild-eyed, and the logic wasn’t quite sound, so maybe calling the police was Johnny’s last grasp on finding some reality for the situation.

 

Darcy sighed. This wasn’t going to go well. “Fine.”

 

“Call first,” he said.

 

“Johnny, your hands!”

 

“I’ll go put them in cool water. Call first.”

 

She growled but nodded and he bent–oh, wow, he was tall, she was really  _ high up _ –to set her gently back to the floor. Her knees wobbled and her stomach flipped but she made it to the phone and waited until Johnny had turned the faucets on with his elbows before picking up and dialing.

 

“Yes, hello. I’d like to report a breaking and entering at 700 Forest Way. 700 Forest Way. No that’s…it’s the house on cliff. Yes. The Romanova house. Yes. This is Darcy Lewis. Yes a breaking and entering.” Darcy was fighting the world's biggest eye roll with Macy Steele, the police dispatcher. “I don’t know yet, but there are damages. And a small fire was set. No, the intruder is gone. No, I don’t know how old they were. I didn’t get a good look. I’m not alone. I’m with…Johnny Storm. Yes. Johnny Storm.”

 

At the sink the lines on Johnny’s forehead were deepening with his frown. Darcy turned her back to him so he couldn’t see her own frustration bleeding out of her eyes.

 

“Yes. Fine. Thank you.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “They’ll be here soon. I’m calling Jane.”

 

Johnny murmured from the sink but she couldn’t hear it over the water and the ringing in the phone. 

 

“How was the date?” Jane asked. It loud in the background and Darcy thought she heard a familiar male rumble.

 

“He broke the wards. Where are you, who are you with?”

 

“The bar with Steve and James, hang on-”

 

“No, no,” Darcy rushed. “Stay inside. Stay with them. Make them bring you home. But not yet. Johnny had me the call the police.”

 

“The police?! Why would you call those backasswards idiots?”

 

Bucky was laughing in the background.

 

“He ripped the wreath down, burnt it. Oh god there’s a fire on the lawn, I forgot. He broke a case in the sunroom. Natasha’s book of shadows,” Darcy’s throat filled up and suddenly Johnny was there at her back, arms looping around her shoulders with his hands held carefully out, some kind of silly, hopeless-idiot’s hug. “It’s burnt. I don’t know how bad.”

 

“I’m coming home,” Jane said sharply.

 

“No, just wait. Stay with the boys. Watch out for greaseball insurance salesman look-a-likes. You come home while the police are here and it’ll just get more ridiculous. Johnny’s here. He set himself on fire,” Darcy added the last bit with a soft headbutt back to Johnny’s chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as an answer. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah. There was some kind of whammy but it’s wearing off now. Nothing tea and a couple band aids can’t fix.”

 

Jane was quiet for a long minute, the bar noisy in the background. Darcy heard Steve ask her to explain what was going on.

 

“The wards,” she said finally.

 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “They’re gone.”

 

“Shit,” Jane breathed across the line.

 

“Full moon tomorrow at midnight,” Darcy said.

 

“You just read that on the calendar didn’t you?” Jane huffed. “Yeah. We’ll put them back up then. I love you.”

 

“Love you,” Darcy answered and hung up. 

 

Johnny stepped back and set her free to fill up the kettle and flick the stove burner on. 

 

“Wait here,” she told him, pointing to where he stood by the kitchen island. She went to the pantry to grab muslin strips and a jar of ointment and then out to the greenhouse to trim off three spines of aloe. Johnny was waiting at the counter, palms raised, kettle rattling softly as it heated.

 

“That was stupid,” she said, as she sliced open the aloe spikes and cut away the spiky edges.

 

“What’d the plant do?” Johnny joked.

 

With his hands rinsed clean of soot, it didn’t look so bad really. He must of put the flame out straight away. But still. He was an idiot. Darcy slid the aloe strips gently across the red welts of burn, the gel leaving shiny streaks.

 

“If you stick around I’m fire-proofing you,” she said.

 

“That would be extremely handy,” he said immediately. “Can you do that?” Darcy delivered what she hoped was a stinging glare and then went back to work. “Hey.” He nudged the toe of her shoe with his own. “I’m sticking around.”

 

He sounded so sure. So certain of his decision even after an experience that was definitely in Darcy’s ranking of Top Worst. She twisted open the jar ointment and smeared it liberally across his palms.

 

“Let it soak in a minute.”

 

“This definitely smells better than usual,” he said, bringing a hand up to sniff at a safe distance.

 

“Don’t eat it,” she said. She put together two cups of tea, Johnny could take it or leave it, she was too wired to care either way.

 

“So…wards are…?” Johnny’s head was tilted, eyes still a little too wide and dilated but she was impressed with his ability to make easy conversation. Every time she opened her mouth she was fighting back a scream or tears or unmotivated insults.

 

Darcy joined him back at the counter, setting his mug down to one side and hers to the other and started wrapping his hands up carefully with the muslin.

 

“They’re like…well, not a security system. Not ours at least. But they’re meant to be a barrier for bad intentions.” And for no good reason that she could think of, Darcy found herself explaining to Johnny about Lucas Wolffe, and the wards being tampered with earlier, and she and Jane scrambling to put every immediate safeguard available in place.

 

“Why didn’t you tell- tell anyone?” he asked. He was growing in front of her, shoulders broadening and bristling with anger. 

 

“You mean like, ‘Excuse me, Swans Island, our invisible barrier at the house got hacked. Can ya’ll be on the lookout for a boring too-posh dude who may or may not be involved?’” Darcy faked a cheesy little shrug of her shoulders and then scowled back at him.

 

There was a knock at the door and Darcy and Johnny both jumped in place. Her heart hammered in her chest and he let out a rough breath, arms halfway around her back as if he’d been impersonating a shield.

 

“Hey there,” a voice called from the hall. “Miss Romanova? It’s Officer Sitwell.”

 

Darcy sighed and Johnny put his arm around her shoulder to lead them both out in the hall.

 

“Coming,” she called.

 

They’d walked to the kitchen in the dark, Darcy too shaky and Johnny’s hands too injured. Now Darcy flicked the lights on as they moved to the front door. There were rusty, caked ash prints on the floorboards. Everywhere. Johnny’s arm tightened over her shoulder, muslin-mittened hand hanging loose.

 

Jasper Sitwell stood in her entry hall, face amused as he watched their approach. When Darcy had first moved to Swans Island, Jasper had just moved back home after college and joined the local police force. And for whatever reason, he was  _ always _ on duty when someone called down from the house on the cliff for break-ins or teenagers running around outside the house in the middle of the night, or unruly customers who’d had too much to drink before arriving to see Natasha. As Jane and Darcy got old enough to clean up broken glass, and chase off teenagers, and subdue drunks, they’d agreed as a family to stop calling Officer Sitwell up to the house.

 

“Heard you had yourself some trouble with the local kids, again, eh Romanova?” Jasper asked, giving  Darcy that indulgent little smirk she wished she could tear off his face with her fingernails.

 

“It wasn’t a kid,” Johnny said at her side. “It was a man. He set a fire outside on the lawn, and down the hall here, in the sunroom.”

 

“Sure hope you put that one out.” Jasper laughed at his own joke and Darcy walked ahead of them both, taking more care not to step in the footprints on the floor boards this time. Everything was going to need a very deep cleansing.

 

Darcy stopped in the doorway, staring at the wreckage in the room, the contents of the old case spilling out across the floor. Jasper walked in and absently kicked a black onyx seeing orb off to the far corner of the room. Darcy chewed at the inside of her lower lip as he looked around. Generations of family heirlooms, scattered across the floor and Jasper Sitwell was busy staring at the way Johnny’s arm hung over her shoulder. 

 

“He came in through the front door, and jumped out the window here. But I haven’t looked to see where else he was in the house before we pulled up,” Darcy said. At Johnny’s gaze drilling holes into her face she added, “I think it was an island visitor, a man whose cards I read a couple weeks back.”

 

Jasper’s eyes widened, making the lines in his forehead deepen. He had his uniform hat still on, covering his bald head. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

 

“A feeling I have,” she said. It was simple, but true. Truer than Sitwell was going to think, anyway.

 

Jasper rolled his eyes a little and glanced out the window to the fire still burning on the lawn. “I wouldn’t start spreading that kind of accusation around, Miss Romanova. You rely on the tourists business as much as the rest of us,” he warned. 

 

“Sitwell, look,” Johnny pressed. “This was not a kid. This was not a prank.”

 

“You know, I never thought I’d see you two together,” Jasper said after turning, eyes narrowed and smile intolerable. “Still working your way through the island, Storm?”

 

Darcy was pretty non-plussed, all things considered. She’d learned a long time ago that anything that came out Jasper Sitwell’s mouth was a pile of trash. But Johnny’s face turned a deep shade of red and a muscle in his jaw ticked angrily.

 

“Romanova knows the drill,” Jasper said, apparently unaware of the fact that Johnny was clenching his  _ burnt _ , wrapped up fists like he was about to start throwing punches. “Kids make hitting this house a competition. Somebody just got a little overzealous this time. Or who knows, maybe you pissed someone off with a nasty reading, huh?”

 

Darcy settled a palm against Johnny’s spine, could feel him almost vibrating with tension.

 

“I’m sure Darcy appreciates your due diligence, Johnny. But these women, they just get this stuff coming at them all the time, right?”

 

“We sure do,” Darcy said, nodding along. 

 

Johnny was gritting his teeth almost audibly and glaring at Sitwell like he was ready to do permanent damage. And there was a tiny part of Darcy that was enjoying the whole thing. But she really didn’t want to mend broken knuckles  _ and _ heal the burns tonight so it seemed like it was a good idea to get Jasper Sitwell off the property and Johnny Storm drinking his cup of tea.

 

“Well, I better go put that fire out,” Darcy said in the pause that followed. She turned and looked hard at Johnny until he met her gaze and added, “Before something blows up.”

 

He nodded once, face still hard with the dark blush across his nose and cheeks. “I’ll come help. Just give us a minute.”

 

Darcy hesitated and he nodded again, expression softening by a small fraction. 

 

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks for coming by, Officer Sitwell.”

 

“Anytime, Romanova.”

 

Darcy ignored the note of invitation in the older man’s voice and walked down the hall. 

 

“Look at those hands, Storm,” she heard Jasper say. “Won’t be much of use tonight with her. Maybe she’ll do all the work for you, huh?”

 

She heard Johnny’s voice answer, hard and sharp but too quiet to make out the exact words so she left the house and turned on the garden hose to put out what was left of the small wreath fire. She walked to the four corners of the yard gate and found the blue stones still in place on the posts, letting out a small little ring of safety.

 

_ They worked. Your charms. _

 

“Natasha,” Darcy sighed out, shoulders drooping with relief. Natasha had been scarce since her wards had been tampered with and having her back in this moment turned things halfway to rights again. “They didn’t,” she said.

 

_ They did. He didn’t find what he was looking for. And my book isn’t too worse for wear, just a few old useless pages lost. _

 

“There was nothing that you ever were or ever made that is useless to Jane and I,” Darcy whispered.

 

She felt a bloom of Natasha’s love and pleasure and then the front door was opening and Johnny was standing, arms folded across his chest, as Jasper Sitwell walked down the stone pathway and out the gate. He was silent, and he didn’t look back at Darcy once, but he wasn’t bleeding so it couldn’t have gone that badly. Darcy met Johnny on the stairs.

 

“I’m sorry for not listening to you,” he said, still glaring at Sitwell’s police car as it drove off, and a growl in his tone.

 

“Thank you. Now, please, let me fix your hands,” she said. She grabbed at his elbow and dragged him down the hall.

 

“You did fix them,” Johnny said. He looked down at his hands and realized that the muslin was crumpled and coming loose from all of his frustrations. “They feel pretty good, actually. Kinda tingly.”

 

Darcy ducked into the pantry, grabbed the best jar of the burn salve–the one that had erased the nasty welt on the back of her hand after she’d whacked it against the hot iron–and came back to jump up to sit on the island. She took a quick slug of tea and and then held her hand out, waving for Johnny to come closer. 

 

“What is it?” he asked, scooting the jar in a circle on the counter, looking for a label.

 

“Your salvation,” Darcy said, and then grabbed his wrist and tugged him forward until he was standing between her knees. She started unwrapping the bandages, happy to find the skin had blistered and was toughening. “Drink some tea.”

 

“That’s,” Johnny leaned close so their heads were side to side. “That’s healing really fast.”

 

“Magic,” Darcy said. She opened the jar and scooped out a chunk, turning Johnny’s palm up and rubbing the salve over every new burn and then over all the old scars she saw as well. He was holding himself still in front of her and she could see him watching her hands, then looking up to her face. She linked her fingers through his so she could massage the salve into the rough skin, listening carefully for any hiss of discomfort.

 

“Sitwell’s an ass,” Johnny said.

 

“He is. But I just try to remember that Natasha hexed the hair off his head and it makes the experience of dealing with him a little easier,” Darcy said. 

 

“Wait, really?” Johnny took a tiny step closer to the counter. The sharp lemony edge of his scent was bright and tickling in her nose.

 

“It went with very little effort,” Darcy said. “So it was probably going to happen sooner rather than later.” She finished up with his right hand and set it down, open, on her thigh before starting over with his left. 

 

“Can I say that this feels…really good?” Johnny asked. Darcy made the mistake of looking up and the smile on his face was was soft and grateful with a hint of expectant hunger in the slant his eyes. “Do I need to keep burning myself for more hand massages? Does it help my case if I say that they cramp up a lot from carrying the pipe?”

 

“Well it’s going to take me awhile to fireproof you, so… you should be good. Please don’t inflict any more damage until then.”

 

“Can you really do that?” 

 

Darcy smiled down at his hand in her lap, her thumbs spiraling around the pink edges of a burn blister. “I think so. Jane’s a genius and if I ask her to do it, and say it’s okay if you’re just fire resistant she’ll probably invent something entirely new to prove just how good she is at her work. I helped her come up with something to make Thor more buoyant so he wouldn’t drown.”

 

“Life jacket?”

 

“Bubble baths,” Darcy said and Johnny snickered. “Lots of bubble baths from what I heard.”

 

“What kind of baths do I get?” he asked, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows in a way that made Darcy want to flick him on the forehead or tackle him to the floor, she wasn’t sure. 

 

“We’ll leave treatment up to Jane. She’s the professional.” But if Darcy could make a request it would be something that required Johnny stripped bare on her bed while she spent an excessive amount of time working the magic into his skin. “What did you say to Sitwell while I was outside?”

 

Johnny sighed and grimaced, the dimple in his cheek flickering away. She played with his fingers while she waited for him to answer until she found a scratch down the length of his ring finger to attend to.

 

“Is everyone really like that here?” he asked. “Just dismisses you?”

 

“Not entirely,” Darcy said. “But yeah, when the house gets broken into, people assume it’s just kids. And as far as they're concerned, it’s not a problem that kids want to prank the house because we’re witches. That’s just part of our role here.”

 

“I never did,” he said quickly. “Just so you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Darcy said. It had actually been a pretty peaceful few years for the house while she was in high school. And maybe Johnny had headed off some of the trouble with the others. 

 

“I told Sitwell he needed to do his fucking job,” Johnny said, voice low and harsh. “And that if anything happened to you, or Jane, or the house, I was holding him responsible. And that Thor probably would too, which I dunno, I’m guessing is true. Not that I have any way of clearing it with the guy.”

 

Darcy stopped her work and held Johnny’s hand in both of hers. Her heart was swelling and a sharp edge in her chest was turning soft, mending itself. Johnny glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, and twitched his lips in an embarrassed little smile.

 

She dropped his hand and lifted hers up to his face, fingers slipping across the prickly shadow on his jaw. She was at just the right height to lean in and set her mouth against his, pulling his bottom lip into her kiss. So that’s what she did. 

 

She got one firm press and then Johnny’s surprise vanished into reaction. His hands slid, barely brushing, up her thighs to the backs of her hips before he pulled her tight against him with one sharp movement, her legs bracketing his hips. The kiss was long and tight, the pair of them holding firmly together. She could feel his exhale, a shaky puff of air against her face. She leaned away and he chased her so she slid her lips apart to flick her tongue out and taste him. The chapstick was missing, and the mint too, but the salty, tart flavor of him was there and when his mouth parted with a soft groan she hunted for more.

 

He was keeping her now. The resolution was in the press of his fingertips on her spine, the hand at the back of her neck that she leaned into as he arched over her. He was letting her lead the kiss, following her searching tongue, her soft nips along his lips, and somehow even that was overpowering her. She was sinking into his hands, pulling him over her, dragging soft sounds from his throat as she tried to take and take and take. Find every flavor of him, every texture of a kiss, all the little catches of breath she had dreamt of.

 

She would stay with him. It was in the way she was turning softer in his hold, reclining back as he half-bent over her. One hand, slippery with salve, slipping into his hair to clutch him against her, the other hanging tight to his shoulder as if to keep from falling. She needed to catch her breath but she needed the fantasy– _ reality– _ of the kiss more so she stroked her tongue along the back of his top teeth and whimpered as he pressed their hips harder together. 

 

He dragged his mouth away, over to her cheek, and her breath came out in short pants.

 

“Darcy,” he said, all rasp and grit that just made her want to pull him back, kiss him more, forget for longer that the wards were down and the house was a mess and everything was tits up, even the part where she was kissing Johnny Storm like he was an antidote to all her griefs.

 

He was mouthing along her jaw, swirling wet patterns with his tongue and raising goosebumps with scrapes of his teeth, making his way to a spot on her neck that would have her toes curling in no seconds flat. Darcy thought she might have been glowing with the way her whole body was tingling and her pulse was drumming. But something snagged at the back of her mind and she winced.

 

“Jane just pulled in,” she said. “Oh!”

 

He had found it, his lips circling around the thrumming beat of her pulse and she was drooping, melting, trying to suck in air and turning her head to offer Johnny more of her throat, more of  _ her. _

 

“Hmm?” he hummed into her skin and she shivered.

 

_ Huh _ ? She wondered. Oh. Right. “Jane. She’s home.”

 

“Kay,” Johnny said, lifting his head up. She blinked sluggishly at him and wondered if she should be concerned by how smug and pleased with himself he looked.

 

He pulled her to sit up straight again, and her hands settled on his shoulders. She was pouting, she realized. Were they done? She didn’t want to be done.

 

And then his mouth slanted across hers and this time he was leading, and taking, and she was clutching at the shoulders of his sweatshirt and trying to pretend that all the little moans and gasps weren’t coming from her this time. The front door opened and slammed shut and Johnny’s thumbs brushed just below her breasts and she wanted to tackle him to the floor, and not care what Jane walked in on. 

 

“Darcy?” Jane called from the hall.

 

Johnny pulled away once, and then again after another briefer kiss, before stepping out of the ring of Darcy’s legs and over to her side. He was taking a long drink of cooled tea and Darcy was staring wide-eyed at the floor when Jane walked into the kitchen.

 

“Shit,” she said. “I should have taken Bucky up on that last drink.”

 

“Hi Jane,” Darcy said and Johnny grinned at the cracked note in her voice.

 

“Hi Darcy,” Jane said, all amused. “Johnny.”

 

“Hey,” Johnny said. He had one arm crossed across Darcy, his hand cupped around her hip, and she wanted to smack the pleased smile off his face or drag him upstairs to her bed to kiss him stupid again. “So which of those fancy brooms in the hall should I use to clean up the glass in the sunroom? You should check the rest of the house together.”

 

“No magic brooms for trainees,” Jane said. 

 

“I’ll get it,” Darcy said, batting Johnny’s hands away as she hopped down to the floor. She was only a little wobbly.

 

Jane snorted from the doorway and wouldn’t meet her eyes until Johnny was walking down the hall, plain broom and dustpan in hand.

 

“The pair of you have salve handprints  _ all _ over you,” Jane said, raising an eyebrow.

 

Darcy looked down and, yep, there were too-large greasy hand smears all up and down the side of her clothes. “Shut up,” she said.

 

“Maybe I should go clear up the glass and you and Johnny should go check on your bedroom,” Jane whispered. 

 

“That was not where it was going,” Darcy said. Was it? It was a kiss that didn’t seem to have a destination. Would they have ended up in bed together all at once?

 

“You’re forgetting I have been on the other end of a pesnya dushi kiss, Darce,” Jane said as they headed up the stairs. Jane sniffed at the brown footprints and wrinkled her nose. “If I’d been out tonight you and Johnny would have christened the kitchen. And then the stairs. And your doorway. You might have made it to the bed eventually.”

 

“Stop,” Darcy groaned and then paused at the top of the stairs. A small bell rang in Jane’s room and they both hurried down the hall.

 

It looked like a hurricane had been set off. The mattress was torn open, springs and foam and feathers everywhere, and the closet looked like someone had set off a plaid and denim bomb. Every scrap piece of paper–and this was Jane’s room so there were  _ millions _ –was littered across the floor, and her desk was toppled over.

 

“He thought it would be here,” Darcy said with sudden clarity.

 

Jane, frozen in shock, turned sharply to her. “What? What do you mean?”

 

“Tash said he didn’t find what he was looking for. But he checked here first. He thought it would be in  _ your _ room,” Darcy said.

 

“What could I possibly have?” Jane wondered. She sagged against Darcy’s said. “This is going to take forever to clear up.”

 

“I’ll go to the shop early tomorrow morning and put an emergency closed sign up. You’ll stay in my room tonight,” Darcy said.

 

“But Johnny-”

 

“Johnny’s not staying. I’m not ready for that. And we have too much to do.”

 

Their hands squeezed tightly together. The tension that had seemed to melt away five minutes ago on the kitchen counter doubled back in Darcy’s neck and shoulders. This man wanted something from Jane. Her Jane. He was going to be in a world of trouble if he ever got close to hurting her cousin, her  _ sister _ , her other half. But she really wished Natasha was alive to help because she wasn’t sure how capable she was of keeping that promise to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so grateful for each and every one of your comments kudos bookmarks and glances in this general direction.
> 
> Come and join me on tumblr at @ragwitch! I've got another Tasertorch that I'm aiming to wrap up today (maybe tomorrow depending on how my brain cooperates today) on tumblr that I'll be posting here later when I've had time to clean it up. And a little teaser of a wintershock period piece detective noir au. Cause I have no restraint!
> 
> Next Week: Chapter 7 - Waxing, Waning


	8. 7. Waxing, Waning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full moons are for lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVERYBODY, GIVE ME SMOOCHES YOU MAKE ME SO HAPPY. If you want. High fives are good too. <3<3<3
> 
> Extra voluntary-smooches to janetsnakehole and bloomsoftly for taking care of me and taking care of this story!!

 

 

 

July 9 th 2017

  
  


Moonlight pooled over Darcy’s skin where she lay in the grass. Her shift was getting damp from the ground and her skin was tingling with the chilly air, but the clear soft glow of the moon on her body was soft and gentle, seeping in and filling her stiff bones with light and warmth.

 

It was after one in the morning and she and Jane had expended a lot of magic in the past twenty-four hours. But the wards felt tangible and strong from here in the grass and Darcy was satisfied, if not excessively tired. She needed to get up and go inside, join Jane in the kitchen to eat cake and drink tea. She could roll into her bed to lay in the moonlight once she got upstairs. If she got upstairs. She was feeling very, very lazy at the moment.

 

Gravel crunched and an engine hummed and Darcy craned her neck back to watch as a car pulled up to the house. She squinted against the headlights and then smiled as they flicked off. What was Johnny doing here in the middle of the night? The wards fluttered as he reached the gate, the gentle flames licking in the back of her head, but they released and let him through. She raised one arm out of the grass and waved until he spotted her. He was dressed in sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt, padding over in a pair of flip-flops with his hair at odd angles as if he’d just jumped out of bed.

 

“Hey pixie,” he said. He was looking down at her like he’d been looking at her in the kitchen the night before, awed and wanting, glancing over to where her shift ended at her knees. She lifted them up a little to tease him. “What’s the night time version of a pixie?”

 

“I really have no idea, I’m not sure they’re especially fussed about what time it is,” Darcy said. She reached her hand out to him. “Come down here.”

 

Johnny settled down on the ground next to her, frowning a little at the grass until she snuggled up to his side and settled her chin on his shoulder. Then he looked very happy to be where he was.

 

“Why are you here?” she asked.

 

“Jane called,” he said. Darcy narrowed her eyes at the house before he added, “She said you needed a…’recharge?’”

 

Darcy smirked. “Did she explain that to you?”

 

“No.” He shrugged. “But then again, I didn’t really ask questions past ‘you should come see Darcy.’”

 

“Moonlight is kind of restorative for me,” Darcy said. “It’s like a magical boost for a lot of witches, really. And so is this…” Darcy sat up a little and leaned forward, pressing her lips softly to his.

 

Johnny smiled as she pulled away. “Darce, did you just admit that kissing me is magic?”

 

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “If you have a differing opinion, please share.”

 

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Feels like magic. Here, let me help some more.”

 

His hand slipped through her hair to the back of her head and he pulled her down for another, sliding his lips back and forth against hers for a moment before pressing softly. Darcy hummed, a pleasant buzz of energy bursting in her heart and running out to the tips of her toes and fingers. Johnny smiled, drawing a way for a second to catch her eye. He grinned, dimple popping out, then his arms snaked around her body and he rolled them over.

 

Darcy got half a laugh out before Johnny was swallowing the sound with another kiss, his mouth wrapping around her bottom lip to suck and soothe with a flick of his tongue. One hand slid up her back through the grass until he was cupping her neck. With every pound of her heart there was another spark of magic zipping through her, up her throat, down into her belly. Her hands clutched at his lower back, rucking up his t-shirt until she found his skin, heat spreading up through her chilly fingers. Johnny gasped into her mouth and Darcy pushed up into his chest, chasing the taste of him. Their legs were starting to tangle together and his hand was clutching at her hip, arm holding her tight against him as they passed the lead of the kiss between them. 

 

He retreated again, loosening his grip on her waist and Darcy sucked in a breath. Her whole body was singing in his arms and one of her legs was wrapping around his hip. She felt  _ charged _ . She felt electric. She felt like she could show Johnny what it really meant to be a witch, the brightness that filled you up while working magic. The dizzy, heady strength that burned through you.

 

Johnny ducked his head and took a taste of her neck, his lips pressing wet, open kisses over her pulse and down to her clavicle. Darcy shuddered and her fingers dug into his shoulder blades.

 

“What about this?” Johnny said against her throat. “Does this recharge you, too?”

 

His teeth scraped against her skin and choked giggle escaped Darcy.

 

“It’s not ineffective,” Darcy said, voice breathy. 

 

Johnny nuzzled against her neck, breath hot and damp, chilling fast along her skin as a breeze skimmed them in the grass. She could feel his shoulders shake with quiet laughter. His knee was pressed between her thighs, propping him up slightly from the ground, and it was taking every ounce of her restraint not to arch up and press herself to his thigh for a sharper edge of energy, something more than restorative. Something creative.

 

“Just trying to help out,” he said. He made a pattern across the base of her throat; suck, nibble, and a wet swirl with the tip of his tongue until she felt like she was wearing a necklace of kisses. 

 

Another stroke of wind washed up over the cliff, and Darcy shivered in the grass, caught between the cool air and Johnny’s warmth.

 

“We should go inside,” she said as he started to make his way back up to her jaw.

 

“‘M not done with my job yet,” he said, and dropped three firm, popping kisses on her cheek next to her ear.

 

“You can continue upstairs in bed with me,” she said, laughing, and then trailing off as she realized what she’d implied. Johnny stiffened above her and lifted his head up with a frozen, stunned expression. She rushed to add, “If you don’t want to drive home and want to sleep here. Next to me.”

 

He blinked twice and then smiled, his eyes softening and wrinkling at the corners. He kissed her, soft and careful, just once. “Nice save, Lewis.”

 

“I just meant–”

 

“No, I know,” he assured her. “And yeah, I want to sleep next to you. Does your offer include me being the big spoon?”

 

Darcy laughed and tried to hide her face but there was nowhere to go with Johnny hovering over her.

 

“If you can give me an outline of appropriate touching zones I promise not to disappoint,” Johnny said and Darcy couldn’t tell if the eager earnestness in his face was a joke or…well, earnest.

 

“You’re teasing me, I take it back–” She tried to squirm out from under him but he caught her close with the arm at her back.

 

“Nope, nope. I promise to be a gentleman,” he said. 

 

He pushed himself up on his knees and gazed down at her. Darcy was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was wearing her plain white shift for working serious magic and…nothing else. Johnny appeared to be taking this in as well if the way his gaze darkened was anything to judge by.

 

“Hey,” he said, voice throaty. “You’re really beautiful.”

 

Darcy blushed and sat up, trying to push the skirt of her shift back down to her knees. Johnny stood and held his hands out to help her stand.

 

“You’re not too shabby either, Storm,” she said while turning away to the house to hide her growing smile.

 

“I dunno,” He said, keeping her hand in his as he followed her to the greenhouse. “Someone once called me a walking, talking burn mark, which is probably more accurate.”

 

“I don’t appreciate my panicked declarations being quoted back to me,” she said.

 

“Hang on,” he said. He tugged on her hand to stop her just before the steps up to the greenhouse. “Moonlight.”

 

And then his head was dipping down and Darcy was on her toes to reach him sooner, mouths fitting together in perfect pieces. With her arms over his shoulders Darcy could only just touch her toes to the ground and Johnny wrapped an arm around her waist to drag her up against his chest. There was a rumble of pleased humming rising up out of his throat to vibrate against her lips. She landed back on her feet and Johnny left another quick peck on her lips.

 

“You’re shivering,” he said.

 

_ Trembling _ , she thought. There was a difference.

 

She took his hand and pulled him in through the greenhouse, tugging him along before he could get distracted by any of Jane’s experiments. Jane, who was mysteriously missing from her usual haunt, the kitchen. 

 

“Are there  _ always _ brownies in your kitchen?” Johnny asked, snatching one up off a plate at the center of the island.

 

“Chocolate is very important to witches,” Darcy said.

 

“Hm,” Johnny said, and then he held the brownie out for her to take a quick bite.

 

All things considered, Johnny was a pretty quick learner. 

 

Jane had moved into Natasha’s room while she and Darcy finished cleaning up her space and fixing the furniture, and the door was closed now. There was a small tea candle burning on a dish in Darcy’s room and the slightly romantic touch had Natasha’s signature all over it. Darcy twitched as she crossed the threshold.

 

She was bringing Johnny Storm into her bedroom.

 

She was asking Johnny Storm to sleep next to her, in her bed. 

 

She had clothes piled in the armchair by her dresser, a bra hanging from the knob of a drawer, and a spread of spellbooks sitting across the covers of her bed.

 

He set his hands on her hips and Darcy jumped.

 

“Hey, if we need to take a step back…I can head out whenever you ask me to,” he said. His hands soothed stripes up and down her sides.

 

“No, no, I want you to stay,” she said, but to her own ears her voice sounded uneven and when she turned back to him, she could see the edge of a frown from the light of hall. “I’m not ready to have sex with you,” she said all at once.

 

Johnny’s hands slid from her waist and he stepped inside of the room, shutting the door behind him. The candle was flickering dimly but the room was flooded with blue moonlight and she could make out the soft, tired smile on his face.

 

“I know,” he said. He shrugged his shoulders and Darcy watched the muscles shift under the soft fabric of his t-shirt, and almost  _ almost _ regretted her words. “And if you aren’t ready then I’m not ready, okay?”

 

She stared up into his eyes, their color almost shining in the dark. Something taut and brittle in her chest softened, and she felt her shoulders relaxing as he stared back at her. 

 

“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to change. Bed’s there.” She gestured to the center of the room where her bed was sitting at an odd angle.

 

“Are those wheels?” Johnny asked eyeing the feet of her bed.

 

“Yeah, I move it around a lot,” Darcy said, grabbing the first sleep shirt and shorts she found. They weren’t a match but they weren’t a total disaster and they were definitely less provocative than the gauzy dress she was wearing now. 

 

She heard a squeak of rusty old wheels as she shuffled to her connecting bathroom and looked back to see Johnny pushing the bed into a pool of light falling to the floor from her giant windows. The sight made her heart clench in her chest and she hurried out of the room. When she’d finished she came out to find Johnny on the left side of her bed, covers pushed back and his toes tucked under her sheets. The sweatpants were gone and he was laying back in his t-shirt and boxers against a cluster of pillows, his knees bent up as he stared hard at the cover of an old book about using ley lines to charge home wards.

 

Darcy considered going back into the bathroom until she could name the exact emotion she suffered from after seeing Johnny Storm in her bed, looking comfy, and reading the back cover of a spellbook in the moonlight.

 

“I didn’t know which side to pick,” he said.

 

“The blue pillow behind you is my favorite but other than that you’re fine,” she said.

 

He sat up and retrieved her pillow and she watched as he pressed it to his nose for a long breath in. Then he fluffed it and put it on top of her share. 

 

“What’s it take to be a witch?” he asked, as she picked up the books off her bed, plucking the one out of Johnny’s hand. 

 

“Practice,” she said, and set the books down on the sill as she opened the window to let the cool air in. It was what Natasha had always said. She folded her glasses and set them on top of the books.

 

“Okay, but it’s a little different for you, isn’t it?” he asked. “Corey, my friend in college, she was a witch but she never said anything about shadow men that could make you sick or set things on fire.”

 

Darcy slid into the bed and Johnny immediately pulled the sheet up over both of them. Like this wasn’t its own kind of magical phenomenon, the two of them in a bed together…talking about witchcraft. He scooted down until she could see the white blurs of his feet under the blanket, sticking out of the bars of her bed frame.

 

“To be fair, I’ve never really seen anything like that before either,” Darcy said. And then she settled down against her pillows onto her side.

 

“C’mere,” Johnny said, lifting his arm up along her headboard. She shuffled closer to him, blue pillow tucked into his shoulder. She was glad she’d opened the window because he was toasty under the covers.

 

“You’re really warm,” she said, shifting a little closer until she’d found a way to fit herself along his side.

 

“I run hot,” he said, as he wrapped a warm, heavy arm across her back. “A little under 100.”

 

Darcy blinked and tilted her head back to stare at him. “Oh.”

 

“Oh?” he asked. His eyes popped wide and a grin spread across his face. “Did you think it was cause I’m hot?” He waggled his eyebrows.

 

Darcy snorted and kicked her legs against him. Which was a mistake. The friction of their bare skin together sent tingling shocks of electricity up her body to settle between her thighs. Johnny took the challenge with a quick laugh and rolled her beneath him, one arm cradling her neck and the other framing her to the bed. He was heavy against her and the weight made her pulse pound under her skin.

 

“Or did you just think that was what it felt like when we touched?” he asked, leaning down until the tip of his nose stroked along her cheek, breath puffing against her neck. “‘Cause it does feel different than anyone else…”

 

“You’re supposed to be kissing me,” she said, not entirely sure if she was trying to distract him from the dangerous train of thought they’d landed themselves on, or if she just badly needed him to kiss her.

 

He started to smile, she could feel it twitching against her jaw, so she clasped his face in her hands and brought it up to snag his bottom lip between her teeth. His breath hitched and he sank a little harder against her hips on the mattress as he kissed back, swallowing a happy whimper from her mouth and answering her with quiet groan. She could feel the moon on the backs of her hands as they threaded through the strands of his hair, tugging gently and making him shudder over her.

 

Full moon magic was meant for lovers.

 

_

 

Darcy woke once in the night from dreaming that she was floating in the water to find that the bed was scooting across the floor. She rolled over to see the fuzzy shape of Johnny pushing carefully at one of the bed posts. He smiled at her and Darcy’s stomach flipped at the picture of his hair sticking out in soft tufts.

 

“What’re you doin’?” she asked, voice scratched with sleep.

 

“Puttin’ you under the moon, pixie,” he whispered back just as the bed shifted enough for the light to stretch across her skin.

 

“You’re hired,” she said.

 

Johnny huffed a laugh and crawled back into the bed, immediately pressing close to her back. He nuzzled the hair of her shoulder out of his way so that he could stroke kisses over the curve of her neck.

 

“Go back to sleep,” he said, and she was halfway there already.

  
  
  


April 18 th 2005

 

Natasha’s head peeked in through the cracked door and Darcy curled up tighter on the bed, springs squeaking and sobs catching and bursting from her throat.

 

“Oh, malen’kaya ved’ma,” Natasha said, sighing and slipping into her bedroom. She shut the door behind her with a silent click and hurried to the bed to cover Darcy’s body with her own like a shield. “I know, my love. I know.”

 

“Why?” Darcy asked with a gasp of breath. “Why won’t they stop? Why won’t they stop?”

 

Natasha brushed at long dark strands, unsticking them from wet cheeks and working deft fingers through the tangles.

 

“He hates me,” Darcy sobbed.

 

“Shhh,” Natasha murmurred. “That isn’t true. I have seen that boy little ved’ma and he does not hate you.”

 

“He got the whole class to ignore me today,” Darcy shouted and Natasha’s lips pursed. “No matter what I said, no matter who I spoke to, they all pretended as if I weren’t there.”

 

“Your classmates are especially prone to suggestion,” Natasha growled.

 

“I hate the dreams,” Darcy whispered. “I could hate Johnny too if it weren’t for the dreams. God, Tash, why can’t I stop dreaming?” 

 

The sniffles started again and Natasha hurried to stroke long patterns along Darcy’s back, encouraging slow, even breaths. 

 

“They will not stop,” Natasha said. Darcy looked up at her face and found pain etched into the lines there, carved around her aunt’s eyes and lips. “Those dreams will not stop, my love. They will never stop, not while you are apart from him. And you must bear that. You can, I know you can.”

 

Darcy found herself gaping for a moment before she swallowed another sniffle. “You…have you-”

 

“You are beautifully strong, my ved’ma,” Natasha said firmly. “You can bear that.”

  
  
  


July 9th 2017

 

Darcy spread herself across the sheets in the morning. Johnny was missing from the bed but his citrusy sharp smell was in the pillows behind her and she pressed her face against them to inhale. Falling asleep had been hard with him in reach, equally uninterested in not touching, not tasting, not holding each other tight enough to fuse together. But his hands never more than  _ teased _ at the places he might touch her with her permission.

 

She sat up in bed and folded her knees close to her chest. Johnny must have moved the bed again before the morning because her glasses on the windowsill were in reach. She put them on and stood on wobbly legs out of bed. It’d been a long time since she’d spent a night rolling around a bed with anyone, semi-innocently or otherwise, and feelings of the night before were imprinted on her skin. The scratch of his stubble on her neck, the outline of his hips over hers even as he tried to hold himself away the longer they touched, the evidence of his arousal growing. Even the grip of his hand around hers, the way his knuckles had tightened against her fingers as she’d sucked his earlobe into her mouth the night before.

 

She wanted to see him. Needed him to smile at her and reminder her that he’d been glad to be here. Happy with where they’d started and stopped the night before.

But when she made it to the kitchen to find Johnny hunched over the counter staring into a coffee cup and Jane shifting restlessly with arms folded over her chest by the toaster, Darcy’s nerves flared. Jane glanced once at her and then actively avoided her gaze. Johnny didn’t look up at all.

 

“Did you just give him a shovel talk?” Darcy blurted.

 

Johnny’s eyes flicked to her but his head didn’t lift and he went back to staring down the mug in front of him.

 

“I…” Jane trailed off, biting her lip and looking up at the ceiling. “I might have made some assumptions about what you two have discussed.”

 

“Umm…” Why did she feel like there was ice running through her veins?

 

“The dreams,” Jane whispered and Darcy felt her heart stutter.

 

“Pesnya dushi,” Johnny said, brow tight as his mouth fumbled over the words, sounding out the syllables too carefully.

 

Darcy turned back to Jane who winced and mouthed ‘I’m so sorry.’ Darcy let her eyes fall shut and nodded, listening to Jane’s feet pad quickly out of the room and down the hall. When she opened her eyes again Johnny was staring at her and there was something painfully absent from his expression, some kind of hopeful softness that he’d been wearing ever since that first day he’d walked into the Lab.

 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she said, adding, “If you don’t want it to.”

 

His expression grew tight, eyes sharpening as he looked at her and she felt pinpricks on her fingertips.

 

“I’ll come back to that, what you just said. But first I want you to tell me what it might mean,” he said. “Tell me the  _ whole _ thing.”

 

“What did Jane–?”

 

“Darcy.” He sat up on the stool, his arms falling into his lap and Darcy almost flinched at the pale exasperation on his face.

 

“I have dreamt of you. Since we were twelve.” She lined the words up between them, like little tiles, and waited for Johnny to knock them down.

 

“What kind of–?”

 

“All kinds,” she said. “At first…at first it was just…you. What you looked like. How you…” How he smiled. How his hand would feel in hers. “How you were. And then it was things you might say to me. Conversations we might have.”

 

“Like the day we met?” he asked.

 

The day he had rejected her friendship and snarled ‘witch’ at her. “No,” she said. “They were…dreams about us as if we were…happy. Usually. None of them came true.”

 

His face was slack and he looked down at his untouched mug of coffee as if it had bitten him. “I don’t think I had…I mean. Darcy, I dreamt of you but…” He turned a little pink as he glanced at her.

 

“No it’s…it’s something a witch experiences,” Darcy said.

 

“Why? Why dream of me?” He asked.

 

Darcy swallowed and tried to think of anything to say, anything at all that might be true but wouldn’t leave her feeling like she had torn herself open in front of him. “Johnny, I–I can’t–”

 

“Come here,” he said. When she hesitated, her eyes felt hot and wet and everything was fuzzy behind her glasses, he stood and joined her at the other side of the island. His arms went around her and she finally released the breath she’d been holding. He was curving over her, setting his mouth to the top of her head. “Please tell me,” he said.

 

“You were meant for me.” She whispered the words. She wasn’t even sure if she said them loudly enough for him to hear. But then his hands twitched on her spine–was he going to pull away?–and she rushed to fill the space. “Natasha said it was what happened when a witch’s life was entwined with another person. That the threads of memories and growth and change and experiences all get tied together and it falls into our dreams.”

 

The fingers on her back slid up and down, light and almost ticklish, but not another bit of Johnny moved around her.

 

“But that doesn’t mean that…that anyone has to…” She did know how to say the words without putting Johnny and herself in the implications. Pesnya dushis did not always stay together. Fate giving another person impact on a witch’s life didn’t always mean the impact was good. “Nothing is written in stone,” she said instead.

 

But  _ so much _ was possible. 

 

“Since you were twelve,” he said. “That’s how long you’ve known?”

 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” She meant it as reassurance but when she stepped back from him she caught the end of a frustrated twist in his face.

 

“Please stop reminding me of my possible insignificance to you,” he said.

 

“No. No, it’s… obviously yo–a pesnya dushi is significant,” Darcy said. “But it’s not…there’s always a choice.”

 

His eyes narrowed at her for a moment and his mouth shifted, words near to bursting out, before he shook his head. He stepped away from her, fingers combing through his hair, pulling at the strands.

 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, folding his arms and looking down at the floor.

 

“Johnny, really? When? When we were twelve?” She almost had. She almost had so many times. “When we were sixteen? While we were in college? I was trying to forget about you,” she said. The words went off like a gunshot and Johnny’s head shot up. He looked stunned. She fought for any explanation, wrestling the words out of the choking tightness in her throat. “You always…It seemed so clear that you wanted nothing to do with me.”

 

His mouth firmed into a thin line and she watched him swallow hard, twice.  He turned his back to her scrubbed his hands over his face and Darcy felt wet streaks running down her cheeks.

 

“You keep saying it doesn’t have to mean anything. But it could, right?”

 

Darcy nodded, but he wasn’t looking at her so she cracked out, “Yes.” And then slammed her eyes shut as he turned back toward her, afraid of what she might see.

 

“If we want it to?” he asked.

 

She nodded again and there was no way to voice a word.

 

There was a little glow of warmth in front of her and then Johnny was gently pulling her glasses off her face. She heard them click against the countertop and when she tried to turn her face away his thumbs were on her cheeks, smoothing tears on her skin.

 

“I know that I ruined a lot of years of potential,” he said. “I didn’t realize how badly. But I would really like to enjoy some of that potential now. If you think it’s still there.”

 

She hadn’t even realized that her fingers were knotting into the fabric of his t-shirt until she was pulling him down to her, darting up on her tiptoes to kiss hard against his mouth. He grasped at her, exchanging three fierce, firm kisses before pulling away again.

 

“Darcy, I’m not freaked out by you dreaming of me,” trying to lift her chin up while she tried to burrow her face against his throat. When she was too stubborn he settled for soothing his hand down the back of her neck. His free hand sought out hers, fingers stroking over her clenched knuckles until she loosened her fist and held onto him. “As much as I wish I’d known…that you’d been able to tell me sooner, I get why you didn’t. What I’m upset about is that you don’t seem to realize how much I  _ want _ it to be true. I’m going to keep trying to prove that, okay?”

 

She tried to answer but all of her emotions were swollen bruises in her chest and throat so instead she turned her face up, new tears slipping out.

 

“Need to kiss you,” he said, even as he was bending down and fitting their lips together. Darcy could barely breathe in the kiss but she could taste him and touch him and the urgency of that eclipsed the one for air. His mouth dragged and sipped hers, trailing over her cheek as she gasped a breath, settling at the top of her neck by her ear. 

 

“I promise,” he said, voice ragged. “Darce, I promise. I’ll–”

 

She cut him off, pulling him back and swallowing the words she hadn’t learned to trust yet.

 

Their rhythm grew hard, bodies pushing against each other until he had her lifted up in his arms and pressed against the back counter. This she could believe. That Johnny wanted to feel her, kiss her. That she could make him groan by rolling her hips and scratching her fingers down his back. That they could find a way to fit together with him curling over her, with her surging up to meet him, stroking her tongue along his, letting him chase her. That his hands could be everywhere at once and still holding her safely against him. 

 

“Hey,” he said as the broke apart, by barely an inch, to take sharp gasps of air. She tried to catch him again, pull him close before he could think straight. “Wait,” he said, leaning away. His hands were sweeping down her arms, her still sleep tousled hair, her back, as if it could erase the sexual energy or turn it softer. “Tryin’ to distract me?” he asked with a smile.

 

He must have seen the trouble on her face, the guilt in her eyes. He sighed and she slipped down his body to rest on her own feet again. He leaned forward, setting his forehead onto her shoulder, arms braced against the countertop. She cupped her hands over his shoulders. “I should go, Darcy,” he said.

 

She stiffened below him and one hand lifted from the counter to wrap around her waist.

 

“Why?” she asked.

 

“I’m not trying to put distance between us,” he said. “Well, not emotional distance.” He turned his head and kissed along the line of her sleep shirt where her skin appeared. “I’m just not sure where my head is at. And I don’t want to make a mistake with you. Not another one.”

 

He stepped back and Darcy had to drop her grip on his shirt. His eyes were still tight as he looked over her, and the line of his jaw was hard, a little pulse of tension popping by his temple. 

 

“Do you need me to stay?” he asked with a worried twist to his frown.

 

She didn’t want to think about what she looked like. She had to be a mess. She wasn’t a pretty crier. (Was anyone?) 

 

She shook her head. “No I’m…I’ll be alright.”

 

His hands twitched at his side. And she understood. She wanted to wrap herself around him. She wanted him to leave. It was all tangled up.

 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. She nodded and her mouth wobbled and then Johnny was against her again, soft kisses against her mouth. “I’m not walking away, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she said. They kissed again, holding together, lips wet and breath passing between them for a long minute until she pushed softly at his chest. “Okay,” she repeated. 

 

He wavered in place until she looked away, her eyes felt heavy sore from bad sleep and crying, and then he was leaving the kitchen and walking away down the hall. She stayed leaning against the counter until the rattle of his car started. She crossed the kitchen to take his barely touched cup of coffee upstairs to bed with her.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going out of state for a wedding next weekend and so this story will be updated on Wednesday, Aug 30th, not next Sunday. Sorry about the delay! I'll keep you updated on tumblr, you can find me at @ragwitch. Also! Sometime soon I'll be posting a list of Halloween/Autumn themed prompts I wrote for people to choose from and then I'll put them up all through October. Cause October is the best month ever. -.- Plain and simple.
> 
> Leave me some sugar!
> 
> Next Wednesday: Chapter 8. Doesn't have a title yet, ARGH!


	9. 8. Setting Traps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's afraid of the big bad Wolffe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY MOLY I FORGOT WHAT DAY IT WAS. You're all incredible and I need to answer every single comment and I am going to do that just as soon as I get this chapter up because I promised it would be here.
> 
> I'm still a little ditzy from the weekend adventure mayhaps.
> 
> This chapter is temporarily unbetaed cause I only got it to janetsnakehole today. Thank you to bloomsoftly for soothing my fears, as always!

 

 

 

July 11 th , 2017

 

“And I am telling you, Mr. Grimm, that you have never tried my potions,” Jane said smugly, arms folded across her chest as she stared down at Ben. He was sitting in one of their little iron tea chairs, filling up the edges like it was meant for a child rather than a full grown adult. And he was trying to shrink under Jane’s glare, slinking down against the back of the chair, his legs bumping up against the table.

 

“Don’t bully the man,” Darcy said to Jane.

 

“Bullying is malicious,” Jane snapped back. “I’m being helpful.”

 

“Let her wear him down,” Steve said under his breath to Darcy. “Ben could use a little magic on his side.”

 

“Hey Darce,” Bucky called from the greenhouse. “Can’t find the corkscrew. Can you give me a hand?”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him where he was half-hanging out the door. She’d left the corkscrew sitting directly next to the bottle of wine in the kitchen. Not terribly hard to find. She glanced over at Steve who was unsubtly focusing all his attention on Jane lecturing Ben on the benefits of white light healing and meditation. 

 

“Okaaay,” she said, rising up from the chair and heading over to the greenhouse. “What’s up, Bucky?”

 

“Just need your help,” he said, but his voice was pitched too high, playing innocent.

 

She glanced back at the others, outlined by a pink and tangerine sunset, Steve smothering his laugh as Jane’s hands wrapped around Ben’s head in some kind of exercise. “Finding the corkscrew?” she asked, turning back and following Bucky into the kitchen. “Because unless you hid it…”

 

“Test the pasta sauce,” he said. “Think it needs something.”

 

His hair was up in a little knot at the top of his head and he had one of Darcy’s flour caked aprons over his clothes. The corkscrew was sitting next to the open bottle of wine on the counter.

 

“Pour me a glass to go with that side of bullshit you’re serving me,” Darcy said to him with a lift of her eyebrows.

 

Bucky grinned and went to the cupboard to pull down two glasses while Darcy took a quick taste of the sauce simmering on the stove. 

 

“This is really good,” she said, and then went to her spice cupboard to add more fennel and the dried lemon basil from the garden. Bucky snorted behind her and a glass of wine appeared on her left. 

 

“So,” he said, the word drawing out too long and Darcy’s hackles raising. “How are things with Johnny?”

 

Her teeth clenched and she stirred at the sauce for a long minute. Bucky was patient behind her. There was a rustle of movement and the sound of bread being sliced.

 

“How about you just skip the small talk and ask the question you’re working up to,” Darcy said. 

 

The bread knife thunked on the counter and Bucky joined her at the stove, leaning in to meet her eyes. 

 

“He’s beating himself up about something, and I just want to know if I need to help him with that,” Bucky said. “What’d he do?”

 

Darcy sighed and turned the burner off, passing the spoon to him for a taste test. His eyes lit up at the flavor.

 

“I think, this time, the blame is mine,” Darcy admitted. “But…we’ll be okay. I think we’ll be okay. We’ve been talking. I’m coming to the grand opening on Saturday.”

 

Johnny had kept his promise and called her, asked her to be his date at his studio opening that weekend. The conversation had been fragile, both choosing their words like they were being tested on them. And making plans together had hardly been a step back, even if Darcy did want to erase the awkwardness and go back to the night of fooling around and cuddling in her bed.

 

“He doesn’t act like it’s your fault,” Bucky said and Darcy thought the way his brow furrowed was adorable. 

 

“Not fault,” she said with a shrug. “We just have a lot of history and I’ve been carrying more of it than he realized. And now he knows more…just more. It’s a lot. We’ll be okay.”

 

“He’s not giving up on you,” Bucky said. Darcy glanced at him and tried to keep the hope off her face. “I’ve known Johnny a long time. And even before he ever mentioned you, I knew you existed. I knew there was  _ someone _ .”

 

Darcy wiped at her cheeks. It was the  _ steam _ , nothing else. “Where’s the manicotti?”

 

Bucky smiled, pecked her cheek with a kiss, and went to the sink to pull the soft pasta shells out of the strainer. 

  
  
  


July 12 th , 2017

 

She fingered the bloody scrap of black cloth in her hands, running her thumb back and forth over the grain of the fabric.  The furniture in the sunroom was pushed to the side, the glass swept away and the un-homed artifacts lined up along the windowsill. Darcy had been taking customers outside on the wrap around porch, cloaked with citronella candles and handwoven afghans for the chilly nights. The sunroom still had an icky, sticky residue in the air. Something sage bundles and salt washes hadn’t been able to wash away yet.

 

But that was alright. A little bit of that black magic was just another thread to grab onto for what she needed to do next.

 

She lit the burner of herbs sitting on the floor in front of her; anise and lemon peel for strengthening psychic vibrations, bay for protection. She tucked her hair back with Natasha’s old chrysocolla hair pins and paused at the soft hand on her shoulder.

 

_ This is dangerous little witch _ .

 

“I know,” Darcy whispered.

 

_ I cannot follow you on the mental plane _ .

 

“I can do this, Tash,” Darcy said. “I can.”

 

A kiss pressed into her hair at the crown of her head and then Natasha was gone again. 

 

Darcy leaned into the smoke from the herbs, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She buried her cough at the thick licorice stench and took another deep breath, thoughts spinning. But the sour flavor of magic that clung to the walls of the sunroom was sharper and the fabric in her hands tingled at her fingertips. It felt like little needles, the quick stabs of cold at the touch of ice.

 

That was what she was looking for. 

 

She leaned away from the smoke as the shiver of power ran under her skin into her bones, up her arms and throat, making her teeth throb and her cheeks cramp and her eyes tear up until the chill was in her thoughts, a cloak of cold. She could chase Lucas Wolffe down like this, find him out there in the world to slip into his head to dig and tear until she found answers. Or until she left him weak.

 

Her head fell back with the weight of the ice and when she opened her eyes again, the world around her was gray and blue with violent, worming threads of red, stains of magic. They slithered in the corners of the room, streaks running over a few of her family’s tools, and a dark heavy stripe dragging across the floor and the edges of the bay window. She took a deep breath and as she released it - so slow that it didn’t even disturb the smoke drifting in the air in front of her - her frost lined consciousness drifted away from her body.

 

She had practiced this when she was younger, with Natasha. It was not quite like floating. Natasha said that was because the brain supplied the memory of what a step felt like. She imagined it was similar to walking on the moon, weightless and aimless, every motion accompanied by the urge to catch flight and lose direction. 

 

This time was easier. Her toes clung to the greasy red streak of magic across the floor and the path to the window dragged on her like a magnet. She followed it, skipping along the trail in static bursts of time and space. She was on the windowsill, her fingers brushing through a clean crystal globe with a glimmer of of memory -  _ Natasha so, so young, eyes sharp and forehead knotted as she stared into the sphere of light and dug for answers  _ \- and then she was outside on the lawn, sun shining distantly. At the gate, where her and Jane’s magic knotted together in lively green and sweet blue twists of power. 

 

The red thinned outside of her home boundaries, little glances on the road, a shimmering stain outside of the Lab, and then a glossy wash at the docks like a smear of blood. There was a border of crimson ringing out over the beach, washing up with the ocean scurf, battering at the shining blue Romanova wards around the island. 

 

Two more skips passed - the mainland docks, a foggy graveyard - before she found him in a one room cabin in the woods, a rickety looking thing painted green with moss and new trees sprouting out of the gutters. The walls were streaked with oily red magic. It pooled over the bed and slithered across the floor. Power patterned like frost crystals shaded the windows and mirrors barring view and reflection. Lucas Wolffe sat cross legged on the floor of the cabin, wearing plain dark pants that tied around his narrow waist. His wiry chest was bare and his pale skin was patterned with a red tinged ash. There were bones, and knives, and rusted iron rail stakes spiraling on the floor around him. 

 

His eyes narrowed as she appeared. She hovered in the corner, studying the room for any signs and clues to who this man really was. But this was a space designed to hold magic. There was no cellphone, no computer, no little suitcase. Not even a car outside. This was a workspace and now, to Darcy, it felt like a trap. 

 

“I know you’re here,” he whispered into the space. “My little moon bloom.”

 

The corrupted magic pulsed as he spoke and the ice crackled. The magic she had used to hitch a ride here felt tighter around her, more like a cage and she immediately began to draw on her own clean light to push against his and give herself breathing room.

 

He grinned, eyes unfocused, scanning the room aimlessly, drifting over her.

 

“You made a mistake in coming here, darling.”

 

Yeah…she was beginning to realize that.

 

“Did you think you could catch me unawares?” he asked. “Sneak up on me? You, with your charming wreaths and gentle wards. I’ve heard stories about the Romanova women. I never imagined they’d have grown so  _ soft _ . Your aunt must have coddled you.”

 

Darcy smiled and began to circle him on the floor. The tools around him were a trap. She wasn’t stupid. Maybe Natasha had been gentle on them, taught them the sweeter parts of magic, focused on what could help people rather than what might make them stronger. But she hadn’t left them completely in the dark no matter what this man thought. 

 

“Come closer, moon bloom,” Lucas cooed. “I can almost taste you.”

 

Darcy tried to shift away and found a frozen wall at the back of her thoughts and a sharp jab of power striking her dizzy. She grimaced and gasped and Lucas Wolffe startled in his spot, his eyes fixed to where she was but seeing right through her. Icy lightning zipped through her and pain rung out. Darcy tugged and pushed and tried to chip at the power around her but the walls grew denser, colder, closer as she fought. Her head felt muddled as Lucas stood up from the floor and turned to face her, and the soft touch of the fabric in her hands on the island grew fainter. The feel of the floor under her legs softened and flickered. He was cutting her consciousness away from her body and she grappled for a foothold out of the projection and back into her home.

 

“You feel like silk, my darling,” Lucas murmured. “Such a delicate heart. So fragile for a grown woman.”

 

_ Now that’s just rude _ , she thought. And now she could feel him tracing through her, the ragged edges of his chilly aggression, the scraping sensation as he dug through her memories.

 

She built guards up in her mind, walls to surround her love for Jane, her ache for Natasha and her mother, her fear of Johnny. 

 

“Musn’t have secrets amongst friends, darling,” he said and the strange red ropes of power circled her like sharks in the water.

 

She was sluggish and fuzzy-headed, and when a memory of Natasha soothing her terrible respiratory infection as a child floated in she clung to it for a moment, basking in the warm touch of her aunt’s hands, the dulcet tones of her voice. Then Lucas chuckled and Darcy moaned and shoved the memory away. She had let him in.

 

She tried to shore up the blocks but they crumbled under his grip just as quickly.

 

He found Johnny next, just a dream. And that was somehow worse. It was a perfect little vision of her and Johnny facing each other in bed, naked and sleepy and talking over their day. An old dream, one that she had memorized and replayed for herself even in college when she was determined to forget him. Lucas hummed as he found it and the dream started over again, from Johnny pressing a kiss to her lips, stroking back a lock of hair, and asking her about the customer she’d been reading for when he’d arrived home. 

 

“Pesnya dushi,” Lucas said, but his voice rattled strangely, as if there were an echo inside of it. When he continued, the echo had faded. “The Witch’s Joke. Did you know that’s what it’s called?”

 

Natasha had called it that once, when Darcy was young, spoken it in a bitter tone and then distracted her with a magical treasure hunt around the house. 

 

“A witch is not a lover. We are conduits, moon bloom. We are forces of change,” he said, and it sounded recited.

 

Natasha had always said a witch was a force of growth.

 

“He was never going to stay,” Lucas whispered into the air, just inches from where she was caught, tangled in red and anchored in ice. “He was never meant to love you, only to tighten the grip on your heart so you could learn to break it.”

 

She had never learned to break Johnny’s grip on her heart. That had been the problem.

 

_ Darcy _ . The voice was soft, no competition for Lucas Wolffe’s hisses and whispers. Cold burned at her cheek like a caress.

 

“Now, tell me all about  _ her _ ,” Lucas said. “The little hedgewitch.”

 

“Fuck you.” The words were surprisingly firm, even said over a channel of distance. Lucas’s brow furrowed and she wondered if he could hear that. 

 

But Jane. Jane he could not have.

 

_ Darcy? Darcy, what’s happened?  _

 

The burn was over her throat, at her wrist, and she cried out, pulling away.

 

_ Darcy! _

 

“ _ He’s found her _ ,” said a voice, all rattle and grit. And as it spoke the red threads pulsed and squirmed in around her and Lucas’s eyes sparked with crimson. “I’ll have her shredded before he can do anything,” Lucas said.

 

“Johnny,” she said. The name was miles away from the cabin and clumsy on her cold numbed lips.

 

_ Darcy, what- what’s happening? _

 

The burn stroked at her cheeks, soft and gentle. It wasn’t the stinging tear of cold but the brilliant flash of sun and fire. Johnny was at the house.

 

“Help,” she murmured. She tried squirm away from the magic curling around her wrists and ankles, snaking around her waist, but only bumped against the hard shell of ice.

 

_ Shit. Darcy? Darcy, you gotta tell me what to do. _

 

He was so warm. Even in her thoughts he glowed like the belly of the ovens he worked around. She was soaking in the heat, sapping it into herself to try and combat against the shattering cold of Lucas’s power turned against her. She was horrible and selfish and maybe giving Lucas Wolffe access to Johnny’s strength, his shocking brightness, but she needed it wrapped around her.

 

_ Darcy! Darcy, babe, c’mon. C’mon. Tell me what to do. _

 

“We have her,” Lucas said.

 

“Rowan crown,” she said, or tried to say, the words all stuck together on her tongue. “By the window.”

 

She could feel Lucas’s fingerhold on her thoughts now and his amusement was spinning in the background, laughing and twisting her head. Johnny’s warmth vanished from her side and Lucas and the inky, oily shadow lurking inside of him were all that was left. Darcy shied from every brush in her mind, every greasy fingerprint on a memory, every attempt to cut away at something precious of hers, to chisel at the stronghold keeping Jane safe in her memories.

 

When Johnny reappeared at her side, she had no sense of her own body left but his glow was there and it battered back at the intruders. He spoke her name but instead of the word, his strength surged through her. She clutched at Lucas as he tried to retreat another step and her grip answering his seemed to spin the control between them.

 

“Not yet,” she managed to Johnny as something vivid and clear scratched against her hair and for a moment, the room at home was in focus again.

 

When the tables turned Darcy was ready. Weak, but desperate, she pierced and kicked and swam upstream against Lucas Wolffe’s invasion. She dug all the sharp edges of her power, all the fierce teeth that Natasha had trained her with but never demanded she use, into Lucas Wolffe.

 

And found that he was not Lucas Wolffe at all. And that he was not alone. 

 

They were only little glimpses. He was better at guarding than she was. 

 

The name ‘Loki’ spat from the lips of a white bearded man. A flight over the ocean in a plane that rattled like a tin can while lightning snapped outside the windows. The creeping shadow that swarmed his dreams, the color of dried blood. 

 

And then the shadow was rushing at her, Luc- no Loki’s resident parasite chasing after her.

 

“Now!” she cried out and then cabin split apart in little fractions of light and she was in the sunroom, thin branches tangling in her hair and Johnny kneeling before her, white faced and wide eyed.

 

Darcy tossed the scrap of fabric to the side and threw herself against Johnny’s chest. He caught her with a soft burst of breath and fell back on his heels, holding her tight against him.

 

“Johnny,” she said followed immediately by a sob. 

 

His hands were clutching at her back, gathering up her legs and drawing her up into his lap. His head nudged against the crown of branches in her hair and she snapped up a shaking hand to hold it steady.

 

“What was that?” He asked. “Are you okay? Jesus. Darcy, are you okay?”

 

“I think so,” she said. “No. No, I’m going to be sick.”

 

To Johnny’s credit, he didn’t throw her off him, only snatched the poor misused bowl that had put out the journal fire the other night, and held it expectantly in front of her face. She might have smiled, but her face was still numb with cold.

 

“Need the floor,” she said instead, gingerly crawling off his lap, all while Johnny continued to pet at her, appraising her condition. He guided her wobbling arms down to the floorboards, sweeping her hair back over her shoulder as she pressed her cheek to the warm grain of the wood.

 

“Darcy,” he sighed, leaning forward to set his forehead gently onto her shoulder. And oh, that helped too. Could she ask him to lay over her, cover her in that safe fire glow of his? “What happened?” he asked.

 

Darcy opened her mouth to explain and after a choked pause, another sob fell out. One hand soothed at her spine and Darcy clutched at the front of his button down and pulled him down to the floor and next to her side. That was better. She still wanted him closer. 

 

“Shh… hey. Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

 

“I was so stupid,” Darcy said, gasping the words out in shuddering breaths as her chest pounded and her lungs burned. “Oh my god, Johnny. I was so fucking stupid.”

 

Johnny bundled her up in his arms again so she was draped half over him. But it was alright she supposed, he seemed to be another grounding force for her to soak up, just like the house. She just wished she could get ahold of herself. She was rattling in her own skin like one of those little wobbling wind up dolls that skittered across the floor and she could feel Johnny chasing the trembles with his hands as if he could iron them away with comfort.

 

“I went looking for him,” Darcy whispered in hiccups. “I tried to spy on him.”

 

“Him?”

 

“The man, the witch…” Darcy shuddered again and turned her face to the side to as a dry heave kicked up her throat. 

 

“You what?” Johnny said with a furrowed brow.

 

Darcy tucked her face against his neck as the nausea passed. “I projected myself, followed his magic, tried to track him down.” When Johnny stiffened, she added, “It was a trap.”

 

He exhaled hard. “Why wasn’t Jane here?”

 

“I didn’t tell her,” Darcy whispered. 

 

Johnny flinched under her. “You’re probably gonna tell me it’s none of my business, but Jesus fucking Christ Darcy, even I know you shouldn’t do shit like that alone.”

 

_ I agree with him. _

 

“Not now,” Darcy said with a huff.

 

Johnny reared up. “Um…yeah now. Now is the time, Darce.”

 

“No, I didn’t mean you, I meant Natasha.”

 

“…Natasha?”

 

_ In for a penny _ , Darcy thought. “Yeah. Natasha. She’s a ghost. She lives here too.” She twisted in his arms to watch as Johnny blinked, eyes glancing out of the corners as if he might see her. But Natasha was curled up like a cat in one of the pushed back arm chairs at the far corner of the room.

 

_ Tell him I said ‘hi’. _

 

“Don’t tease, Tash.”

 

Johnny’s head thunked softly on the floor again. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, you need tea right? I could use some tea.” Darcy made to move off him but his arms clamped tight around her. “No, wait. Not yet. You’re really okay? I have more questions but…you’re okay?”

 

Darcy reached up with the arm that wasn’t trapped by Johnny’s cuddle and shifted the crown on her head. “I think so.”

 

_ They released you _ , Natasha said.  _ We are alone here. _

 

“They wanted to prove they were stronger,” Darcy said.

 

“They?” Johnny asked.

 

“Umm…yeah. That’s the bad news.” And then she explained what she had seen, the two auras of magic and the cabin in the woods and the second voice from Luc-Loki’s mouth. The way he had dug through her memories and feelings. The fragmented scraps of memory that she’d stolen in return. She skipped what Loki had said about the pesnya dushi, partly because she wasn’t sure if it was still a sore topic between them, and partly because she didn’t want to give those words any credence.

 

She  _ didn’t _ want to believe that Johnny wasn’t meant for her.

 

She trailed off as she realized this fact. How long had it been since she felt that way? Since she was a kid at least.

 

“You okay?” he asked, and he sat up from the floor with her held close, shuffling them both back to lean against the wall. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. He leaned back to catch her eye so she continued. “I’m sorry for never telling you about the dreams. I don’t know how I could have, but still. I’m sorry.”

 

Johnny’s face relaxed and he leaned again, pressing his face close to hers until their breaths mingled.

 

“I’m sorry for thinking you put a love spell on me, instead of realizing-”

 

She shifted, swallowing his terrifying confession with a press of her lips. He followed her quickly, hands spanning around her waist to draw her into his lap and Darcy knocked the Rowan crown off her head before digging her fingers into his hair. It was just this side of too long and she loved the way it felt sliding through her hands. His grip on her hips rocked her against him and Darcy gasped, leaving Johnny’s mouth sliding down her neck and over to the spot he’d discovered just nights ago that left her pliable and melting backwards in the nest of his arms and legs around her.

 

“Please don’t change your mind,” she whispered.

 

He paused at the corner of her jaw and then pressed one firm, closed mouth kiss there that left her shivering.

 

“I won’t,” he rasped against her neck, opening himself up to give her room to hide under his chin against his chest. “I won’t, Darcy. Don’t shut me out, okay?”

 

Darcy opened her mouth to make the promise and then swallowed. She sat up to meet his gaze. 

 

“I’m trying not to,” she said, and it was as honest as she could be. 

 

He nodded and they kissed, softer and lazy, his hands sliding up and down her spine. Then, all at once his hands froze and he stiffened under her.

 

She pulled back immediately, searching his face for discomfort. He was looking out the corner of his eyes again.

 

“Shit,” he muttered. “Is Natasha still in here?”

 

Darcy barked out a laugh and some knot of fear and tension burst with it until the giggles spilled out one after the other and she could barely catch her breath. Johnny just rolled his eyes and carried on soothing at her back with his hands. 

 

“Look, you  _ just _ told me that your Aunt is a ghost living in the house and…you can see her, yeah?” Johnny asked as Darcy tried to bury her giggles under her hands. “I just, I don’t want Natasha watching me debauch you or-”

 

“We haven’t even gotten to the debauching yet,” Darcy said.

 

“Yeah,” he said, grin growing. “But when we do, it can be private, right?”

 

She bit her lip to stifle another flurry of laughter. “She left a while ago. And as much as she loves chiming in with her opinion, she’s still very discreet.”

 

Johnny shook his head. “This is wild. This is fucking…”

 

“Crazy,” she said for him, slightly touched that he had stopped himself. “Yeah. It is. Hey. What’re you doing here?”

 

“Oh. I brought you a new case,” he said, nodding towards the old wood and glass cases that held the family tools. “I took some measurements and pictures Friday night and sent them to friends of mine. It should be a pretty close match.”

 

Darcy blinked and stared as Johnny’s cheeks started to turn pink.

 

“It was gonna be a surprise,” he said. 

 

“It is a surprise,” she said. And then after another pause she asked quietly, “Even after Sunday morning?”

 

“Darce,” he sighed, one hand sliding up to stroke his thumb at the back of her neck right over a knot of tension. How did he always know how to find those? “Yeah. Especially after Sunday.”

 

He drew her close, mouth coaxing hers with careful patience until all her nerves and worry had faded and been replaced with a mellow hunger. He drew back and she stretched up for another kiss. He turned it into a short press and smiled at the way her bottom lip popped out. 

 

“We need to call Jane,” he said.

 

She tried not to frown. “I don’t want to scare her.”

 

Johnny tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna keep her in the dark?” 

 

“No! No. I just…She’s still at work and there’s nothing she can do so…”

 

“So you just want to put off her being angry with you for putting yourself into a dangerous situation?” Johnny said, an old, familiar smirk sneaking onto his face.

 

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe.”

 

He grinned. “Well, I’m kinda looking forward to it,” he said. “So how about we go to the kitchen and I’ll make you tea and call Jane.”

 

“I’ll make the tea,” she said quickly.

 

“I won’t mess it up,” he said.

 

“I’ll make it,” she repeated. “But wouldn’t you rather just make out until Jane gets home?”

 

He snorted and then stood up, Darcy burying a squeak as he lifted her along without so much as a grunt. “We can do that too,” he said brightly.

 

But as Darcy was waiting at the stove for the kettle to start steaming, and Johnny was grinning at her while he cradled the phone against his ear with his shoulder, she wondered if she shouldn’t have let him make the tea while  _ she _ called Jane. Because Jane was barking inflamed orders over the phone loud enough for Darcy to hear the consonants. And those orders included ‘Not leaving her alone for more than the two minutes it takes her to come up with another crap, kamikaze plan.’ 

 

Johnny arranged for Steve and Bucky to pick Jane up from the Lab as it closed and bring her back to the house. He then roped them into helping him haul in the display case from the back of his car to the sunroom while Jane and Darcy faced off across the kitchen island. 

 

“I can’t believe you did that,” Jane said, voice ragged after firing off snarky, bitter questions all through Darcy’s explanation of events.

 

Darcy ducked her head for a moment, like a child, and then straightened again. “I know. Neither can I.”

 

“They are stronger than us,” Jane said. It was a statement with the tilt of a question.

 

Darcy nodded. “I didn’t give them anything about you, I promise.”

 

“It’s not me,” Jane said firmly. “It can’t be me they’re looking for.”

 

Given that all the evidence was to the contrary, Darcy only bit her lip. 

 

“We need more help,” Jane said, just a breath of sound. Darcy stared at her, eyes wide. 

 

“Natasha’s not-”

 

“No. Darcy, we need…people.” Jane said, her own eyes growing big. “We need a team.”

 

“A coven?” Darcy asked. They’d worked with Natasha and been a coven of three. And then together as a pair but…more witches? They’d met more, of course. Natasha had introduced them over the years but to  _ work _ with them…

 

“Actually,” Jane said, blushing, “I was thinking…friends.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

From the other end of the house Bucky cackled at something Johnny did - he  _ always _ laughed at Johnny - and Darcy and Jane both leaned to look down the hall.

 

“I like them,” Jane said.

 

“Yeah,” Darcy said, a little startled. “Me too.”

 

“And Thor is home next week,” Jane said.

 

“Oh!” Darcy let the beaming smile spread across her face. “Good! Good. So…we have…people?”

 

“Yeah,” Jane said, nodding. “I guess we do.”

 

Huh.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kiss you I kiss you I kiss you. Leave me some sugar and come see me at @ragwitch on tumblr for all sort of other little writing extras that I haven't gotten around to posting here because I cannot get it together.
> 
> Next Chapter will be up Sunday Sept 10th! I know it's another long wait but that chapter is long too! And smutty! The rating will be rising, my friends despite my most honorable intentions.


	10. 9. Darling By Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party, a visitor, a respite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE RATING WENT UP. My finger slipped. It slipped and smut happened at the end of the chapter even though it wasn't gonna.  
> Oh well.
> 
> This is a longer one, so yay for that, thank you so much to everyone commenting and kudosing and privately enjoying this fic! Thank you to janetsnakehole for keeping it presentable and thank you bloomsoftly for keeping me sane.

July 15 th 2017

 

Had they needed to convince Steve and Bucky to become staples at the house? It seemed to happen naturally, practically overnight after they had helped assemble the case with Johnny. The way Bucky helped himself to the kitchen utensils to cook dinner without Jane raising a fuss. The way Darcy found Steve in odd corners of the house, nose buried in obscure magical texts, before she even knew he had come by. 

 

Like how he’d wandered in to nosed through her books in her bedroom when she’d gotten home after work and started to get ready for the studio opening.

 

“Do you and Jane make your own incense?” 

 

Darcy leaned past her bathroom mirror to peek into her room where Steve was sitting cross-legged on her bed with a family recipe book. He was dressed in a pair of crisp black pants and a blue button down with a black vest over the top. Bucky had picked it out and brought it over in a garment bag to keep Steve from getting it wrinkled. Which it now absolutely was. And covered in the fuzzy lint from her blanket.

 

“We do,” she said. She went back to her mirror to brush mascara over her eyelashes. 

 

“You don’t sell it at the Lab,” he said.

 

“We don’t sell magic at the Lab,” Darcy said. “Just at home.”

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Magic should be specific to the person receiving it and you can’t do that in a shop where everyone wants to come in for an aromatherapy lotion. But good ingredients used correctly can do a lot even before magic,” Darcy explained.

 

Steve appeared in the doorway, looking rumpled but dapper.

 

“Am I taking too long?” she asked. “You and Bucky should have gone ahead.”

 

“Nah, you’re fine,” Steve said, eyeing her up and down. “You look beautiful.”

 

Darcy caught her cheeks pinking in the mirror. He hadn’t meant it as a come on, not the way Johnny or even Bucky (teasing) would have. But it was nice to be admired, and Steve was easy on the eyes just like his cousin, even if he didn’t set her heart pounding.

 

“Thanks,” she said. She reached for her lip stain but one look in the mirror reminded her that she’d already applied it. Twice.

 

“Nervous?” Steve asked.

 

“Umm…” She was going to say no. Except she couldn’t stop checking her reflection for lipstick on her teeth or a weird bump in her curls - they were curls, for chrissakes, there were loads of bumps. “Yes. Yes I am.”

 

“Johnny is, too,” Steve said and Darcy’s eyebrows shot up in the mirror before she turned to face him.

 

“He is?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, sly grin spreading. “He’s worried ‘bout his fancy art contacts not being impressed with the studio. About the island not getting his work and not being ready to support him. And he’s worried about you bolting,” he said.

 

Darcy wobbled in place at that, and took a step away from the sink. “Bolting?”

 

“With the locals around tonight,” Steve said and Darcy found herself suddenly facing a new man, one of hard lines and firm resolve, giving her his whole attention. It wasn’t a mean look, but it also wasn’t very forgiving. He continued, “With Johnny having to do his peacock act for the patrons.”

 

“I wouldn’t…” she started.

 

“That’s what he said,” Steve said, with a little smile. “But he’s worried. Just a head’s up.”

 

Darcy clenched her jaw shut and looked down to smooth away wrinkles in her dress. It was a clingy knit fabric and it’d been hanging up in her closet for over a year. There weren’t any wrinkles. 

 

“Come on beauty queens, what’s taking so- Jesus, look at you, punk,” Bucky said from her bedroom.

 

Steve turned, the severity melting into sheepishness as he looked down at his black pants covered in purple fuzz. It was worse in the back, but Darcy decided she didn’t feel like saying anything. She followed him out of the bathroom, resisting the urge at the threshold to go back and double check herself one more time. Bucky whistled as she appeared, and Jane popped up on her tiptoes to see over his shoulder.

 

“I got you that dress,” she said, proudly.

 

“Fits just right,” Bucky said with grin.

 

It was a little tight, specifically around the bust.

 

“Letch,” Darcy said, grabbing her nice purse and wiggling her way out of her bedroom, leaving the others to trail behind her. 

 

“Aww, Stevie, look at your ass. You’re a mess.” Bucky huffed from the end of the line.

 

Outside, Jane and Darcy slid behind the bucket seats of Steve’s truck onto the bench and watched as Bucky retrieved a lint roller from the glove box. He barked instructions to Steve and gave them a private wink from outside, until Steve was more or less de-purpled and it was really time to get to the studio. 

 

Darcy and Jane had maintained to the last minute that they could have made it to the studio on their own. But once Steve and Bucky were filled on the situation with Loki and the house wards being torn down and put back together, Darcy and Jane had been outnumbered. And the weird thing was, Darcy didn’t even really mind. It felt good to have the house filled up with voices, to have others to talk to. Jane and Darcy could converse in glances and the shift of shoulders most of time and it was nice to remember how to make full conversation with someone. 

 

Also, she’d so far been managing to get herself out of dish washing duty after dinner. It was too easy to convince Johnny and Steve to do the cleaning up. Their mothers had raised those boys with manners as it turned out.

 

The truck pulled into the gravel lot and curved around the tidy lines of cars that had already started forming, circling to the back of the building. Darcy tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. The ones that felt more like eels twisting through her guts. Bucky helped her out of the back and gave her hand a squeeze as she stepped down. And then Johnny was in front of her. 

 

Bucky moved away with a half-laugh of exasperation as Johnny leaned down and grabbed a quick kiss from her lips.

 

“Hey,” he said, eyes lighting up as he pulled away. His breath was short, like he’d sprinted through the studio to meet them at the backdoor. “Wow.  Wow. You’re - you’re here and you look amazing.”

 

“Thank you,” she said. “You have guests.”

 

“I do, yeah,” he said, nodding. His hand was at the base of her back and he was leaning down again.

 

She slipped out from between him and the car. In the past couple days, unless they were confined to a bed, Johnny seemed to have a hard time keeping his hands off of her. But then night came and he stayed over and held her without so much as a teasing touch in sight. But she need to keep her head on tonight and not let Johnny catch her in a corner somewhere where they might get caught and embarrass themselves.

 

“Come on,” Darcy said, pulling him to the back door as it shut behind a smirking Jane. “Do you really want to leave Bucky to represent your work?”

 

“Well, no,” Johnny admitted, but he tugged gently on her arm. “Gimme a sec though.”

 

This time as his arms circled her waist she didn’t fight it, just met him on the tips of her toes. The nervous eels in her stomach vanished with the swooping feeling that followed his kiss. He always seemed to manage so much as he kissed her, his hands fanning up her back to press her closer as his toes nudged between her feet until she was pressed up the length of him, grasping his shoulders to keep from turning into a puddle on the ground. One hand appeared at her cheek, thumb rubbing along her jaw and he pulled away once, twice, and then successfully on the third try.

 

“I might have done a thing,” Johnny said and Darcy’s kiss-sedated eyes popped open.

 

“A thing,” she repeated.

 

“Yeah…I asked Sue to hang out with you when I couldn’t,” Johnny said his expression doing a strange dance between an encouraging smile and an expectant grimace.

 

“Oh. Okay, I like Sue.”

 

“Sue likes you,” Johnny rushed to say. 

 

Darcy fought off a smile. “Is Sue my babysitter? To make sure I don’t knock anything over? Or that I don’t offend any of the money bags?”

 

“Look,” Johnny said, and Darcy tried not to sway into him at the wicked grin blooming. “I just don’t want you taking all my donors back to the house and giving them up-charged readings.”

 

“Aww but come on…they’re just leaking money. I can smell it on them,” she said. She started to pull back to the door but Johnny stopped her again, his smile eeking away.

 

“She’s…more like your bodyguard,” Johnny said. 

 

“Johnny, if Loki shows up…” Her arms flapped at her side. If Loki showed up, Sue was going to need  _ her _ help first. 

 

“Not from him,” Johnny said. “More just…you know. The usuals. Just to keep people out of your hair.”

 

“Sue’s my social buffer?” she asked.

 

“Yes! Yes. That’s a better term for it,” he said, nodding. “She knows not to let anyone corner you and tell you potentially discouraging shit about me.”

 

He was starting to blush and he nudged her toward the door as she stood, startled, at this confession. She hadn’t really been worried about what people might say about  _ Johnny _ so much as what they would say about her. 

 

“Who’s going to guard you from all your old girlfriends?” Darcy asked.

 

“Ben. And he’s got permission to bring Reed into it if it gets serious. Or if it looks like Reed is pissing off the donors.”

 

Darcy laughed and Johnny kissed her neck before leading them both down the hall into the bustling hot shop.

 

Her first thought was that maybe this was an event that would have been better held outside in the gravel parking lot. From where they entered, the ovens were blasting heat and Darcy could spot at least three people - Caleb Carver included - who didn’t seem to have much sense of self-preservation in regards to their proximity to the glory hole. 

 

“You’re gonna set yourself on fire at some point tonight,” Darcy said with a sigh.

 

Johnny grinned and pressed a kiss to her cheek as Sue appeared.

 

“I said the same thing,” Sue said. “I’m glad you’re here. I know Johnny wanted me to protect you, but I think I might need you to save me from the small talk.”

 

“I despise small talk,” Darcy said, beaming back at Sue.

 

“Good. Because I have a lot to talk to you about as soon as he walks away,” Sue said with a nod in Johnny’s direction.

 

“Uhhh…” Johnny frowned at his sister. “I thought…we said…”

 

“Someone is waiting to talk to you,” Sue said sweetly point over to an attractive older woman with a haircut of steel and heels that must have been a bitch to walk in on over all the rough stone. 

 

“Yeah, yes. Okay,” Johnny gives them a worried look over his shoulder as he moves away.

 

“So I was thinking I’d start with the time that Johnny accidentally burnt down our old garden shed with a single match,” Sue said, linking her arm with Darcy’s.

 

“I’m having such a good time,” Darcy said over her shoulder to a horrified Johnny.

 

_

 

Surprisingly, that remained true. 

 

Sue was  _ good _ company and a master at deflecting  _ bad _ company. Like when Grace Harper slipped into their huddle - smile dripping acid and backless dress clinging perfectly to her narrow frame - and started chatting about bumping into Johnny at the deli the other day and catching up on old times. Darcy wasn’t too impressed. Sue just glanced at her, rolled her eyes, and then smiled at Grace like butter wouldn’t melt.

 

“Yeah, Johnny’s changed a lot over the years. I think high school’s a great tool for embarrassing him now,” Sue said. “Which reminds me! Darcy, did I tell you yet that my mom and I used to have a drinking game for every time we could get Johnny to start talking about you? I got to drink a lot wine coolers on Saturday nights thanks to his obsession with you.”

 

Grace moved off to a new corner of the room pretty quickly after that.

 

“She was always jealous of you,” Sue said, satisfied.

 

When someone from town made a point of ignoring Darcy while talking to Sue, Sue made a point of including Darcy in the conversation. When Jasper Sitwell started toward them, Sue found them a good hiding spot by the appetizers in the kitchen area.

 

Sue Storm-Richards was kind of Darcy’s hero of the night. Being stared at. Being whispered about. It was all fairly tolerable with Sue heckling the room around them under her breath. 

 

“Oh look,” Sue nodded to where Bucky and Jane were being cornered by Reed and a patron. “Hang on. Someone needs rescued. Not sure who yet. Bring the cheese platter.” Sue rushed ahead while Darcy tried to figure out how to balance a glass of wine in one hand and a cheese platter in the other.

 

She had just managed to get her palm under the platter when a sliver of ice pierced her thoughts. She dropped her hands and the cheese skidded to the edges of the table before settling, the lip of her little plastic cup catching at her fingers. She left it on the table and hurried around the table, scanning the room in a panic.

 

Jane was still with Bucky and Sue and the others, and there was no sign of Loki around them. She scrabbled to pinpoint the spike of cold in her head, to push it away from herself while finding the source. She shifted to the doorway, trying to stand at the tip of her toes to see above the button downs and cocktail dresses. She braced herself against the frame of the garage door, slipping the toes of her left foot out of her shoe and into the gravel, searching for grounding. She searched the dark of the parking lot and then turned back to the studio.

 

He was there. She’d forgotten how bland he looked after seeing him undone and painted in magic. He was standing next to Johnny, who was smiling, shoulders back, gesturing to the furnaces and pointing up at some of the works that lined shelves high up on the walls. Loki’s eyes were narrowed in a humored squint and Darcy was frozen in place, trying to decide between grabbing Jane and running home, or storming over to Johnny to push Loki through the glory hole. He wouldn’t fit. 

 

She didn’t grab Jane either.

 

Loki looked directly at her and smiled, empty and unassuming if it weren’t for the sharp focus of his gaze. He turned back to Johnny, said a few short words and then they both smiled, wide and friendly and Johnny shook his hand before Loki walked away. He circled the room, looking up at the glass for sale in cases and on shelves, and Darcy’s heart pounded as he passed close to Jane. 

 

The gravel scratched against her feet but she dug deeper into the dirt, trying to summon up strength and a wall of safety to hide behind as he prowled closer to her.

 

“You look lovely tonight, Darcy,” he said, voice purring.

 

He looked like anyone else in the room, clean and well dressed and polite. But Darcy could feel the snarl of power around him now that he wasn’t hiding behind a cloak of mundanity. 

 

“I’m going to burn every trace of you off this island,” Darcy whispered.

 

Loki laughed, a throaty rattling sound, and the party sounds dimmed beyond them. Johnny was schmoozing and Jane was laughing and Sue was whispering in Reed’s ear and Bucky and Steve were kissing softly. And she was alone with Loki, shrouded in his magic. Even the cicadas and cries of the bats from the woods around them were dimmed, like she was surrounded in a heavy curtain.

 

“I find you infinitely more interesting than your cousin,” Loki said, head tilting off to one side. “Your instincts are stronger at the very least. You never liked me did you? Jane seemed to find me charming.”

 

Darcy’s hands formed fists behind her back. “Jane is good at faking,” she said.

 

Loki raised an eyebrow, like he could tell she was lying. “I really don’t know what he was thinking.”

 

Darcy glanced over at Johnny again at those words. Had Loki done something to him? How would she find the poison to suck it out again?

 

“You haven’t solved the puzzle yet, darling,” Loki said and Darcy jumped when she realized he was less than a foot away from her. “Soon enough. I am curious though. What’s so worth protecting in him? Why waste all that power on a man that’s broken your heart so many times? He’s sure to do it again.”

 

“I figure he’s got a few good tries left in him,” Darcy said, shrugging her shoulders. “But I’d like to see his face when you suggest to him that he’s not sticking around this time. I guarantee he won’t like it.”

 

Meanwhile she tucked his words away for perusal later. He’d been circling Johnny for a reason, not just to torment her, and found something of interest there.

 

“Have you spoken to your aunt recently?” Loki asked, inching closer.

 

“My aunts are both dead,” Darcy said, pressing her lips together.

 

“She hides in your house, nursing her cuckoo children even now that they are grown,” Loki said. His voice was strangely resonant, an echo hiding in the smooth sliding notes, something dark and rough. “But she cannot hide there forever, Darcy. She has debts to pay.”

 

Darcy felt the metal guide of the garage door digging into her back as she tried to keep her distance from his looming figure. 

 

“I don’t know who you’ve been speaking to,” she said, quiet and low, “But Natasha can do whatever she damn pleases. And if you didn’t already know that, you’re working with some very suspect information.”

 

Loki’s eyes twitched, he looked irritated. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Darcy asked. 

 

“Enjoying the party,” Loki said, smile smoothing away his ruffled feathers.

 

“Whatever you’re looking for isn’t here,” she said.

 

“What I’m looking for is exactly here,” he said, glancing down the length of her.

 

“Ew, gross, don’t be stupid,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “You are scum. Not to mention that you’re acting as someone’s puppet. Find another mark. But let me tell you this, if you go after Jane I will shred you. And I won’t be alone. I may not be as strong as you but I will never stop pricking holes in your defenses if you hurt someone I care about.”

 

She was leaning forward now without even realizing it. But Loki took a step back, smug and charming washing off his face to leave a blank coldness.

 

“You should speak to your aunt,” Loki said, sharp and clipped. “You’re playing this game and you don’t even have a full hand of cards.”

 

He turned away from the light of the party and slipped away into the falling dark with that parting shot. A hand appeared at the base of Darcy’s back and she jumped and spun directly into Johnny.

 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, grinning down at her. “You know, I thought that guy was kinda cool till I saw how he was looking at you. You okay? You’re cold, c’mere-” 

 

“Johnny that was him,” she snapped, nerves feeling fried. “That was Loki.”

 

Johnny stiffened and then darted forward, but Darcy caught him by the waist, stepping up against his chest to hold him still. 

 

“Not here,” she said. “Not here. Not tonight. Just let him go, please.”

 

“Are you kidding me?”

 

“No I am not. Because I am not ready to go up against him again,” she said staring up into his eyes. He was shadowed by the dark but she could make out their wide gaze, the edge panic in his shoulders. “I’m okay. But we are better off with him walking away, right now. Trust me.”

 

Johnny’s arms circled her and she pressed her face into his chest as he scanned the dark parking lot, waiting for the chill of Loki’s company to burn away.

 

_

 

It was after one in the morning when the wine ran out and the last of the locals slinked away in their cars, or in the back of Happy’s limo-taxi service. Jane spread out in the backseat of Johnny’s car, folding herself up into a sleepy little knot with her face tucked against the leather. Johnny folded Darcy’s hand in his and drove the quick trip up to the house. 

 

The three of them stood together in the entry hall for a long minute.

 

“The house is safe,” Jane said.

 

“Natasha is hiding,” Darcy added.

 

“Good. I’m too tired for that,” Jane said. “Goodnight, you two.”

 

“I’ll get us water,” Johnny said, kissing at the top of Darcy’s head. “Meet you upstairs.”

 

Darcy hesitated in her room. Johnny was giving her time to change and get into bed. He’d created a careful routine for them. One that was gentle and considerate and painful stilted. She moved into the bathroom and turned the warm water on into her tub. She dumped in a heavy handful of herbs and salts and oats and stirred with her arm. 

 

She heard the door of the bedroom click shut and then Johnny’s head appeared around the edge of the bathroom doorframe.

 

“Hey,” she said, standing and letting the water drip from her arm. “Come unzip me.”

 

She turned her back to him and kicked her shoes off, waiting through the rush of water for Johnny to close the space. She was about to turn around to see if he’d run away when she felt his hands slide her hair over one shoulder. She held it in place as the zipper snick-snicked its way down her spine, the tip of his finger drawing a warm line in its wake. She shrugged out of the shoulders of the dress and shimmied it over her hips, her panties catching and dragging down a few inches.

 

“Umm…” Johnny hummed, even as his hand spread across the bare skin of her lower back.

 

“If you’re tired you can go to bed,” Darcy said, reaching her arms back to the clasp of her bra. Johnny’s hands beat her there, fingers slipping beneath the elastic and undoing the hooks.

 

“I’m…I was tired,” he said. “I’m not now.” His fingers slid up under the looks shoulder straps and drew them down her arms and she pulled herself free. He was pressing up against her back, his clothes brushing against her skin and raising goosebumps. She let her bra drop onto the tiles and Johnny’s hands slid against her ribcage.

 

“Like this,” she said, covering his hands with her and lifting them up to work away the ache and strain of tissue from her underwire. She sighed as he took over and let her head drop back to his shoulder. “That’s always a relief,” she admitted. “Kind of hurts, but feels great too.”

 

Johnny hummed, his hands cupping over the front of her breasts to slide her nipples between his fingers. He peppered kisses down her neck and over her shoulder and she shivered in his hold.

 

“Kind of can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” Johnny whispered into her shoulder, the words barely audible over the water filling the tub. 

 

Darcy just turned her head and found a spot near his temple to kiss before hooking her thumbs into the hips of her panties and pushing them down, kicking them off her legs. She felt Johnny gulp as he gazed down the length of her, his hair falling forward and hiding his eyes from her. She nudged his hands away from her breasts and walked forward to step up into the bathtub.

 

It had been a treat to herself from the inheritance, a copper tub big enough to stretch out in, to share. She settled at the back and then rested her chin on her arm at the edge of the tub, staring up Johnny.

 

“You in or out?” She asked. She popped her knees up out of the cover of the water in the hopes that might help sell her case.

 

His eyes were dark as he looked back at her and she watched his throat bob with another swallow. Then his shoulders shifted and she watched him unbutton the top three buttons of his dress shirt before shrugging his way out, pulling the back collar over his head and leaving it in her pile on the floor. She stared at the lines of him, the tangles of muscle over his shoulder, the firm planes of his stomach, soft hair running a line down and circling his belly button before disappearing lower. She smiled up at him after finishing her study, licked her lips slowly, and then glanced down to where his hands were hesitating at his waistband.

 

“Feel like there should be some heavy bass playing for this,” he mumbled.

 

Darcy grinned. “Want me to get out and go put some on?”

 

He blinked and his eyes went unfocused, jaw dropping slightly at the thought of her rising out of the water. She laughed as he shook himself. He snapped the button on his pants loose, jerked the zipper down with a firm tug, and then pulled the dark slacks and what looked like boxer briefs down unceremoniously. Darcy perked up from the water, taking a long look at the strong thighs that appeared and the gently bobbing erection between them. Johnny took two quick steps to the tub, leaning into Darcy’s space so that she settled against the back edge, and drew her into a hard kiss. He pushed against her, teeth tugging at her bottom lip before slipping his tongue into her mouth to stroke against the back of her teeth. 

 

“Mm!” She cupped his face in her hands and tried to find her place in the kiss. Water shifted around, lapping at her collarbone, and then Johnny’s hands were behind her hips, pulling her up to press along the length of him as he settled in front of her. Her thighs bracketed his hips and water sloshed over the rim of the tub, still pouring out the faucet, as they wrestled closer together. 

 

“Jesus Christ,” Johnny growled as the lips of her pussy slid across the soft skin of his cock. He drew away for a moment and Darcy caught a glimpse his forehead knotted, eyes dilated and dark before the momentum of the water rocked them together again, both of them groaning.

 

“I, I need to turn the water off,” Darcy managed as Johnny gasped against her throat and tried to hold himself still.

 

He made a soft wounded sound at the back of his throat, tongue flicking out to catch the water beading on her neck. She meant to push him back, give herself room to think straight, but instead her wet hands were snagging in strands of his hair as she tipped her head back. He nipped at her pulse, sat up on his knees and twisted in place to turn the water off.

 

Darcy floundered at the sight him in front her, water droplets sliding over contours of muscle,  cock skimming across the top of the bath water like an invitation for her to lean forward and lick at the tip. The color flushed a deeper red and she glanced up to find Johnny staring down at her. His expression was dark and more serious than any she'd seen him wear yet, it left her feeling hot and pliant in the water. And it took a long moment for her to realize that despite everything he could see in the clean water, his eyes were fixed to her face.

 

“Hey,” she said, rubbing her knee against the side of his thigh.

 

He smiled but it only made the strength of his stare burn deeper into her skin. “Hey. Where do you want me?”

 

She bit her lip to restrain her first thought and Johnny’s nostrils flared slightly.

 

“Lay next to me?”

 

Johnny sighed and sank into the water, turning and sliding back as she shifted to her side. She lifted one arm over his shoulders and snuggled up to his side, the other hand settling on his chest and down to his stomach. He caught the wanderer, muscles jumping under her fingers, and tangled their hands together.

 

“I’m ticklish,” he said, turning his head just enough for the corners of their mouths to catch and kiss. “If I have to keep my hands to myself-”

 

“I never said you had to keep your hands to yourself,” she said.

 

He swallowed hard and stared at her for a moment. Then the arm that was trapped to his side between them shifted, stroking his fingers gently where her thighs were laying pressed together. She let one leg float up and then propped it on his thigh. His eyes slid away from her face for the first time and she watched him mapping out the terrain under the water, his hand spanning across the inside of her thigh, fingers spreading until his pinky was barely grazing her outer lips, making her whimper behind closed lips. He squeezed at the back of her leg near her ass and dropped his head back onto her shoulder. 

 

“Fucking Christ, Darcy. I want to touch you.”

 

“So touch me,” she said, tilting her chin to nuzzle at his jaw and then leave kisses behind. “I want you to touch me. I want to touch you.”

 

He huffed and his body froze and for a moment Darcy had a terrible uncertainty.  _ Did _ he want her? Was it more than respect and patience that made him hesitate recently? But then his hands were in action, wrapping around her back to pull her closer at the waist, tugging her thigh across his lap to spread her open. He released her hand on his stomach and then his hand was dipping down, drawing spiraling patterns against the soft skin of her pussy.

 

Her laugh of surprise broke into low moan, mouth hanging open against his jawline by his ear. Her breasts were pressed to his chest and when she tried to lift herself up, his hand on her waist held her tighter, his face turning to swallow another note of pleasure with his lips, curving her back into one long arch as he rolled her clit gently under his thumb. She tried to shift, to rock closer or pull back or wrestle against him enough to reach down, wrap her hand around the hard length of him that bumping against her thigh.

 

She tried to make an argument, some sensible collection of words to make her case but all that came out were two meek and throaty words. “…Touch you.” It was half mumbled against his lips and it fell apart as he pressed a finger inside of her, barely up to the knuckle. 

 

“Not yet,” he said and it was all rasp and it echoed in his chest and the water was shifting against her back and as his finger slid deeper she couldn’t remember what she had just asked. 

 

“Not yet,” he repeated and he leaned back to watch her expression knot, lips shaking, as he pumped a digit slowly inside of her. “I’m too close. Just wanna watch you, see what you like. God, Darcy, I wanna be in you the first time. Is that okay?”

 

How was he talking? She could barely make a sound. Everything was knotted up in her chest, ready to shatter out. Her arms and legs shook in the water and a creaking moan crawled up out of her throat as a second finger joined the first, shifting against each other and stroking up into her. His thumb was pressed into her clit, just enough pressure to keep her wired but without any friction.

 

“Is that alright?” he asked again. 

 

“Fuck yes, yes,” she said. She finally managed to find purchase for her hands against the planes of her chest and the toes of her foot at the floor of the tub had gripped to the metal. She pushed down onto his fingers and groaned, her forehead falling to his shoulder.

 

“I want you inside of me, Johnny, please,” she said, and the water was so close it brushed and caught on her lips. 

 

He pulled her up by the waist again, twisting his wrist and stroking his thumb against her as she shuddered with heat. “Not yet. Gonna watch you fall apart, here, like this, in my arms. I’ve been dreaming of this.”

 

“I have too.” The words fell out with a whimper and Johnny caught them against his mouth, lips prying and pulling at hers, drinking all the short gasping sounds she made as he worked his fingers inside of her, his thumb dragging and swirling between her bucking hips. 

 

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what I do to you in the dreams. Tell me what I do to make you come.”

 

She was so close, her breasts dragging and sticking against his chest, his mouth sucking at her pulse, teeth nipping in time with the rhythm of his fingers. There was heavy burn of pleasure swirling just below her gut, flaring a little hotter with every roll of his thumb. She could barely think of a gesture from a dreamed Johnny when the real one was under her hands, his bright smell filling up her lungs, strong legs were bracing hers apart, hand was unravelling her in quick desperate strokes.

 

She shook her head, nose dragging against his cheekbone, unable to find the words for instruction.

 

Which was fine. Johnny found his way, as he was always going to. His fingers curled in, pushing at the tangled nerves inside her and her head fell forward again with a shout. The hand at her waist slipped up into her hair and pulled gently back until she was caught under his eyes.

 

“Let me watch,” he said, pressing in again, harder this time and Darcy’s toes curled as the heat flashed out of her, licking down her legs and up her spine. Her expression crumpled in the onslaught, waves of pleasure sparking through her as Johnny watched, expression fixed and yet tender. His eyes scanned her, memorizing the way she bit hard into her lip, the color spreading over her cheeks, the battle of her eyelids wanting to fall shut. 

 

His hand in her hair loosened and pulled her close, tongue sweeping across her bruised lip and into her mouth. She kissed back lazily, arms sliding back over his shoulders, hips still twitching against his hand as little aftershocks flickered through her body. 

 

“So beautiful,” he murmured, pulling away. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you that way, touch you that way.”

 

She did though. She’d wanted as much for as long. She  _ still  _ wanted. 

 

“Take me to bed,” she said, dragging him back for a kiss, while trying to shift away from his persistent fingers. 

 

She hadn’t meant it as a command, but Johnny was rising up out of the water, with Darcy attached around his neck, barely before she’d finished the words. She whined and hid her face in his neck as he dragged his fingers out of her to lift her out of the bath with his hand under her thighs. He was halfway to the door, with her laughing in his arms, before she realized he was kind of single minded.

 

“Towels! Towels, you dork,” she said, trying to bury her giggles. She could feel him pressed between her legs, twitching with the way she shifted against him as he walked them. “We can dry off a bit before we get in bed right?”

 

Johnny blinked at her, hair sticking up in damp tufts, pupils blown wide and dark. He turned in the middle of the room, Darcy dangling down the length of him, still shaking with barely contained laughter. 

 

“Your two o’clock,” she said.

 

Johnny finally spotted the towels, and even put her down onto her own - unsteady - feet but the process of drying each other quickly became less about towels and more about hands stroking new skin.

 

“Shiiiiit,” he breathed out as she  _ finally _ wrapped her fingers around his cock, felt the pulse of it under her fingers. She stumbled back to the door, forgetting the cold drips of water at the backs of her calves, the wet ends of her hair, in favor for focusing on the way Johnny followed, mouth hungry against her, voice strained in wordless groans.

 

The bed was near the window and Johnny took both her hands away from all the spots she’d discovered, trapping them between them as the backs of her thighs bumped into the mattress. She pushed herself up onto the bed and crawled back, falling onto her sheets without really caring what direction she was pointed in in relation to her pillows. She just wanted Johnny laying over her, pushing into her, clinging to him as she rode her way back up to the heights she’d just fallen from. She knew he could do that to her. She’d been thinking of it for weeks now. 

 

Johnny followed her onto the bed, arms bracing himself up above her. She slid her legs apart and grinned as he watched, lips parted and breath panting out. 

 

“Come closer,” she said.

 

He looked up, into her face and she paused in her teasing, one leg half hooked over his hip. There was something caught in his expression, startled and frozen. 

 

“Are you real?” he asked, whispered it. Darcy stared up at him and his eyes widened. “Are we for real now?”

 

She pushed up with her elbows, pressed her cheek against his, absorbed the warmth of him against the contrast of the cold window behind her, and then sealed her lips against his for a long minute.

 

“Yes,” she said, retreating back down into her sheets. “We’re real now.”

 

He surged down with that promise, mouth locking to hers, tongue sliding into her mouth, hand reaching down to pull her leg around his back. He bucked against her, cock nestling against her, slipping in the wetness. He drifted down from the kiss, tongue licking a trail down her neck to her chest. Darcy gasped as his lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking lightly, and she knotted her legs behind his back, lifting her hips up to press and hitch against him, the tip of him tapping at her entrance. 

 

“Johnny, please,” she said, fingers digging into his shoulders, heels pressing into his ass to try and drag him closer, deeper. 

 

He nudged softly, carefully, and Darcy reached down to help guide him inside of her where she was still swollen and wet from his care in the bath. She watched his face turning slack, breaths huffing against her collarbone.

 

“More,” she said, and her own face fell open as he pushed deeper with a roll of his hips. 

 

Johnny’s strength seemed to falter and he sank forward onto his forearms, their bodies pressing together.

 

“Fuck,” he whispered, forehead knotting and hips kicking gently forward like he was trying to resist the motion.

 

“Johnny,” she started, distracted by another perfect moment of pressure that ended with her pulling at his bottom lip with her teeth. She tried again. “Johnny, I won’t break. I want you. I want to feel you.”

 

“Don’t want it to end,” he whispered against her cheek, wet lips tracking on her skin. “Feels so good. You fit me…” he lost the words with a groan as her heels pushed him deep inside her, deeper until he bottomed out and they both released aching cries.

 

She was inclined to agree though. Nothing had ever felt so right, like the shape of him around her, filling her up inside, was what her body was designed for. 

 

His hesitation vanished then in a furrowed brow concentration, his hand unknotting from the sheets to burrow between them. He surged inside of her, fingers working quickly at her clit, tongue laving at her pulse as he groaned and choked out pleasured notes against her throat. Darcy’s breath had left her. Her hands clutched at his shoulder blades and her legs clamped around his waist, absorbing every shock of their hips with a gasp bursting from her lips and an aching burn that rattled through her. 

 

She was sore from sudden use and felt as if she were burning bright and fast in the bed, the pleasure almost stinging in her blood. But she kept her eyes open, watching the glow of Johnny’s back rocking in the dark, muscles shifting like the blue white waves under the cliff lit by moonlight. He turned his face to her and she met his eyes, took in the shock and the relief in his gaze, the mix of urgency and the desire to drag out every pull of skin, every catch of breath.

 

His free arm slid under her back, shifting her until he was thrusting perfectly inside of her, every shift inside of her coaxing a cry from her mouth, her walls clutching and fluttering at him. His lips fused to her, their voices echoing between their mouths as she arched up into his hold and ecstasy snapped out of her center. 

 

The darkness was bright with colors behind her eyelids as she quivered in his hold, feeling the snap of his hips into hers, the hot rush of him inside of her as his sob of relief melted into her kiss.  They sagged together, Darcy holding tight to his back as he tried to shift.

 

“Not yet,” she said.

 

He relaxed over her and the careful crush of his weight was soothing on her frayed senses. He trailed his mouth across her forehead in something that was half a suggestion of kiss but really more of a lazy sigh. 

 

“Gonna do better next time,” he mumbled sleepily.

 

She laughed and let him shift down to her side, trying to bury the hiccup of sound as he pulled slowly out of her. He turned her in his arms to curl against him and she decided she’d worry about the mess in a minute…or two.

 

“You did pretty good for a burn mark,” she said, kissing his shoulder and settling her legs in a tangle around his.

 

“My pixie,” he said, pulling her tighter against him. He murmured out a last word before nuzzling his sex addled smile into her hair and falling asleep. “Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meeepppp!! Hope you enjoyed, please let me know <3<3<3 Your responses keep me going and make me feel so incredibly amazing!
> 
> Chapter 10 will be up next Sunday! No title yet because they just aren't coming to me recently. But we'll see!


	11. 10. Lovers and Madmen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family histories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titled borrowed from Midsummer Night's Dream by Billy Shakes. (shakespeare.)
> 
> This chapter was going to be entirely plot driven but then it was also pretty smutty. I don't know what to tell you. Thank you to janetsnakehole for keeping me tidy and being amazing, and bloomsoftly for keeping me a happy little nutcase and being amazing!
> 
> Warning for disturbing themes in the scene of Natasha's memories. All very lightly touched on but use your best personal judgement. 
> 
> I love you, I love you, I love every little nugget one of you.

 

 

 

July 16 th , 2017

 

They were trying to get out of bed. Really, they were. 

 

“You taste like breakfast,” Johnny mumbled, hands covering the tops of her breasts as he smeared wet kisses across their soft undersides where she said they ached at the end of the day.

 

“Kind of a weird compliment,” Darcy said, a little breathless. “But I’ll take it cause I like what you’re doing.”

 

“Think I just meant…” he said, muffled by her skin. “You know, that we could skip going downstairs…for today. I’m good here.”

 

He nipped at her and she jumped. And then three quick knocks sounded outside of the door and they both jumped.

 

“Umm, I think Natasha is waiting for us?” Jane said in a tight voice through the door.

 

“Is she-“ Johnny whispered.

 

“No, she’s not in here,” Darcy answered, sitting up and pushing at Johnny’s shoulder to roll him away. “We’re on our way Jane!”

 

She was scrabbling for a bit of blanket, not realizing that Johnny was just as quickly pulling it through her fingers.

 

“Stop, what are you doing?” she asked, yanking on a sheet.

 

“Trying to make you smile,” Johnny said, eyebrows raising.

 

Damn. She  _ was _ smiling. She dropped the sheet and leaned forward landing a kiss halfway between his mouth and his nose. He tried to follow as she drew away, crawling out of the bed, but landed on his chest alone in the blankets.

 

“I appreciate that,” she said, dodging one of his hands as it reached over the mattress for her. “But I feel like you have an ulterior motive that will get in the way of me talking to Natasha. She has answers for us and it’s about time she coughed them up.”

 

“Will I see her?” Johnny asked.

 

Darcy made the mistake of looking back behind her and seeing Johnny stretched down the length of her bed, outlined by sunlight, all lean lines and bed head.

 

“Umm…” she said, and Johnny grinned at her and stretched himself a little more. “No. Probably not. But you might be able to tell she’s there. Maybe you should stay up here.”

 

“Saving your place?” he asked, smirking.

 

A little bit that, yeah. “It’s just gonna be weird,” Darcy said. “You watching me talk to her. I’ll look a little crazy.”

 

That got Johnny out of bed. Darcy wasn’t sure what was more distracting. Johnny naked in her bed. Or Johnny naked out of her bed, all tall and strong and within reaching distance. Or pouncing distance.

 

He pressed a kiss into the top of her hair. If her hands settled on his ass…well sue her. 

 

“I’m coming down,” he said. “Weird or not, I want to be involved now, okay?”

 

She wrapped her arms around his waist, smushing her face against the warm skin of his chest and he stepped closer against her. Darcy didn’t think she’d ever just had a hug this way with a man, skin to skin without any intention of it leading to sex.  Johnny’s fingers spread across the skin of her back, little nicks and scars tickling her in their travels. He patterned a message of kisses into her hair before another series of knocks at the door had them both sighing and pulling back.

 

“Got it, Jane,” Darcy said as Johnny scuffled into the bathroom to hunt for pants.

 

She grabbed a handful of clothing off a chair and dressed on her way to the door. Jane was waiting for her by the staircase.

 

“Told you,” Jane said brightly. “Once it starts-“

 

“Shut up,” Darcy said, trying not to let the grin on her face break her jaw. She pushed past Jane and hurried down the stairs, pausing on the landing when she heard the rustling in the library.

 

“I said she’d been waiting,” Jane said.

 

Johnny looked suitably stunned when he walked into the library to find books laying out in a starburst pattern on the floor, pages flipping back and forth in an agitated little dance. What was missing from the picture for him was Natasha zipping around the room flashing in and out of sight, pulling spines from shelves before pressing them back again with bursts of frustration. Jane was curled up in the window seat, a throw pillow clutched to her stomach and she patted the space next to her for Johnny to join her. He edge sideways around the room after checking on Darcy.

 

“What’s going on, Tash?” Darcy asked. She knelt down onto the floor and reached for one of the books but it scooted away from her fingers, pages flicking faster.

 

_ I thought, when I left, you’d be safe _ . Natasha turned to face her and Darcy winced at the foggy shapelessness in her expression, the way the shocking red of her hair faded soft and coppery. 

 

“Safe from who?”

 

Natasha sank against the bookshelves, just the dark stain of her eyes and lips standing out. And then all at once she was crouched down in front of Darcy, pale eyes sharp and vivid. The books nearest them shuddered on the floor and Darcy jumped, Johnny flinching forward at the window until Jane pulled him back.

 

_ I never loved him. I was only a little girl when he found me. _

 

“Natasha,” Darcy breathed. She eyed the books on the floor. They were heirlooms, gilded Russian texts. Things brought over from the old country.

 

_ Let me show you little ved’ma _ , Natasha murmured in her ear a cool, gentle sweep of air surrounding Darcy on the floor.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Darcy managed to warn the others before falling under.

 

_

 

They were only nightmares at first. Bad dreams of a giant man with a face like a mountain side, all robed in purple with red snakes swirling at his wrists and ankles. He had a woman in his shadow, a woman who was a shadow, with cold blue eyes and hair like blood. Her hand rested in the folds of fabric and the red snakes twisted around her like shackles.

 

She dreamt every night of the giant and his shadow woman. She dreamt of the two of them creating terrible, foreign shapes together, all skin and bared teeth. She dreamt of the man sitting in a dark throne, circled by robed figures, red shadow woman at the heart of the room pulling screams and sobs from broken figures on the floor with a lift of her eyebrow and a pinch of her lips.

 

She woke in her bed each morning, stiff from terror, teeth sore from clenching, palms bruised from her nails digging.

 

It was her mama who pulled the truth from her lips first. It was her papa who gave it a name.

 

Pesnya dushi.

 

It sounded like a curse to her, not a song.

 

They moved out of the city. Her younger sisters loved the house, it was bigger and it came with ponies and private lessons to shirk and their mother taught them about the plants in the woods and the shape of the stars in the sky.

 

She had her own room.

 

But the dreams didn’t stop.

 

Visitors came and went from the house. Witches and friends and family that extended across the continent. 

 

She learned spells to stay awake.

 

She learned how to take rest in short bursts.

 

She grew a little and looked in the mirror and realized that the red shadow woman was going to be her someday. She stained her hair with indigo dyes and learned how to heal broken bones and bad fevers and torn flesh. She took care of the ponies.

 

One day a man and his coven came to the house. He was as tall and as wide as the doorway with a face like the side of a mountain. Her father’s skin was white as the snow outside as he let the man enter the house. She kept her face pointed to the floor for three days but the man and his travelers would not leave the house.

 

He found her in the pony barn.

 

“It is time for you to stop hiding, my princess,” he said.

 

Natasha’s hand was behind her back, fisted around the long black pritchel, sharp edge pressed into the folds of her skirt. 

 

He stepped into the barn and his body filling the door stole the light from the bright winter outside.

 

“You’re nearly grown now,” he said, words soft and coaxing as if he were speaking to a skittish filly. “Your courses will arrive in a few short months and it will be time for you to take your place as priestess in the coven.”

 

“I am still learning, sir,” Natasha said, using the careful deference her father used with the man. Her mother had not spoken in days.

 

“You are learning a woman’s craft,” he said, the words like stone. “I will train you to be as strong as the Titan gods. You need not worship the moon when it will do your bidding.”

 

He spun words around her, painted a canvas of skill and deference, of foreign places on earth and in worlds her mother had only allowed her glimpses of. He offered her a library of knowledge, a dragon’s hoard of delightful tricks to entertain herself, and a freedom to choose her magic. Before he left the barn his hands were on her shoulders and she felt as strong and as tall as the giant before her. Her fingers were loose around the iron.

 

That night she dreamt of an ecstasy outside of the boundaries of skin, one that could only be met in a pool of magic so vast and infinite it might have been the universe itself.

 

The giant and his coven had gone in the night and her family members were like ghosts at breakfast, all sagged in their chairs, not with relief but exhaustion.

 

“He has given you three months to join him” Natasha’s father told her as she sat down.

 

And for one month she thought she would leave her family in a few weeks. Her dreams were heady and she looked forward to being the red shadow woman. 

 

And in the second month she caught swirls of red at the corner of her eyes, in the reflections of glass as she passed windows and mirrors. When she dreamt, her dreams were beautiful visions of the men and women who would worship her, of the structures of spell work she would invent and weave around the world. And in the dreams she wore a necklace and bracelets of curling red magic.

 

And in the third month she woke, bleeding into her sheets, bed smothered by red snakes of magic, thoughts cloudy and stomach queasy.

 

And in the third month her family moved to America.

 

_

 

“Tash.”

 

Darcy woke on the floor, body half lifted onto Johnny’s lap. He squeezed around her shoulders and helped her shift against him to sit up, hot palm against the back of her neck, thumb working against a knot of muscle. Jane was crouched on the floor next to her, fingers digging into the word work.

 

Natasha was sitting at the heart of the explosion of books, thin but clear to Darcy. She looked half the grandmotherly figure she had when she’d passed, and half the delicate child in the horse barn.

 

“Oh, Tash,” Darcy sighed.

 

_ I could have changed the world _ . It was wistful and apologetic.

 

“Not for the better,” Darcy said and watched one slight shoulder lift and fall in acknowledgment. “How can he possibly be alive still?”

 

_ He will never surrender _ . 

 

It felt like a warning.

 

_

 

Darcy’s thoughts were still in a Russian winter as the three of them spread out on blankets under the sun. Natasha had faded into hiding - or, as Darcy was beginning to fear, somewhere farther away and potentially more permanent - not long after releasing her from the memories. 

 

Jane was chewing on sage leaves as she digested everything Darcy had returned with. Johnny was quiet but he had his head pillowed on Darcy’s stomach, one hand tangled with hers and the other arm curled around her hips, as if to pin her safely home.

 

“What can Thanos want from  _ us _ ?” Jane asked. “Natasha? She’s…well even if she isn’t gone it isn’t up to us to deliver her to him.”

 

“Maybe not, but she’s shaken,” Darcy said. “She’s never seemed so…like…like a ghost. Like she was haunting the house instead of living in it?”

 

Johnny’s hand squeezed hers. He did that every time her voice started leaning higher with nerves. She squeezed back and he nestled closer against her. 

 

“What does Thanos have to do with Loki?” Johnny wondered.

 

Darcy let her fingers comb through Johnny’s hair as Jane hummed in agreement. 

 

“He’s manipulating Loki,” Darcy said. “He’s got him on strings like a puppet. Like he wanted to do to Natasha.”

 

“I am…lacking sympathy over here,” Jane mumbled through her sage leaf.

 

Johnny grunted in agreement against Darcy’s stomach. 

 

“But he teamed up with him for a reason. There must be something he thinks we have that he needs. Something to do with…” Darcy chewed at her lip as the thought abandoned her. It had been there, a little wisp of Loki’s memory that skittered away when she reached for it. She shook her head when Johnny and Jane both popped their heads up to look at her. “Lost it.”

 

Johnny shifted up to stretch out alongside her and she rolled in to rest her head on his shoulder. 

 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, face in her hair again.

 

She didn’t even mind that he didn’t sound very optimistic. 

 

_

 

July 19 th , 2017

 

Thor’s boat came in on Wednesday morning. Jane left the lab after frittering around in the back for two hours, promising to return with Thor and lunch.

 

Darcy waited until two in the afternoon to call Johnny.

 

“Hey pixie, everything good?”

 

He did this now. Every greeting accompanied by a quick and ever so slightly nervous-edged urgency.

 

“I am starving,” she admitted. “Jane and Thor are definitely not bringing me lunch and also, can I stay at your place tonight?”

 

“Yeah? Yeah!” he answered. “Of course. You need to grab your stuff or-“

 

“Nope,” she said with a pop. “Not stepping in that house until I get some kind of all clear from Jane.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“They are really loud,” she said, “It’s a thing.”

 

Johnny laughed on the other end of the line. “You need lunch?”

 

“Yeah you think you can get one of your lackeys to swing by?” she asked, fighting a smile.

 

Johnny snorted. “Sure. I’ll find a guy.”

 

Which is how she ended perched on a table in the back room making out with Johnny like of pair of teenagers listening for the door to open so they wouldn’t get caught.

 

And  _ that _ is how she ended up testing Jane’s new bruise cream formula on a pair of mid-afternoon hickeys. Johnny swore he hadn’t meant to. Which was probably bullshit but she hadn’t meant to rub up against him like a cat in heat so that when the bells over the door did finally ring, Johnny hung out in the back room waiting for his erection to subside.

 

Whoops.

 

Still. She was taking her revenge.

 

Johnny’s bed in his apartment was not picturesque and mobile, but it  _ was _ a lot less squeaky and he looked very handsome spread out underneath her with his hands pinned to the mattress. 

 

“Darce- Darcy, jeeezzz…” The rest of whatever words he had chosen fell apart with a gasp.

 

She framed her teeth around the freckle on his collarbone and sucked hard into the skin. Johnny’s hips bucked beneath her, dick slipping futilely against her wet lips as he squirmed below her.

 

“You’re…you’re fucking evil,” he managed through short, hard breaths of laughter. 

 

She was not about to be distracted from her goal, so rather than pull away to argue, she only worked her hips back and down to drag over the length of him. She felt his arms tense under her hands and an extended, low groan rumbled up out of his chest. She pulled harder, rolling her tongue against his flesh and Johnny managed to nudge the tip of his cock inside of her, his whole body shaking with tension below her.

 

She released him with a sharp draw of breath and sank down several inches all at once.

 

“Fucking- damn it. You feel so good,” his eyes were squeezed shut, bottom lip already swollen from biting. 

 

He felt good, too. She was trying to remember her goal of the evening, to drive him as insane as possible before letting them both get some satisfaction. But the stretch and pressure of him inside of her, and the picture of him at her mercy. She looked down between them and found herself whining slightly at the sight of where they were joined, the look of her wrapped around his cock, bodies red with blood rushing.

 

“Oh god,” she whispered.

 

Johnny’s wrist twisted under her hand and she released him as she lifted up slightly and then sank down farther again. 

 

Johnny grunted, and it might have been a word but Darcy couldn’t make it out for the rushing in her ears. His arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her flush against him.

 

“One day,” he ground out. “One day we’re gonna go so slow.”

 

She abandoned his other wrist in favor of giving herself leverage against his chest. “Not tonight,” she said.

 

His hands wrapped over her hips and his knees bent to brace against the bed. “No. Not tonight.”

 

Their rhythm was rough, rushed at first, both fighting to set a pace. Johnny pushed himself up to kiss her, teeth pulling at her lips, dragging against her chin, down her neck as he let her take control. She wanted to be patient, to drag every rise and fall out. But with every broken note from Johnny’s lips burning into her throat, she tried to fit them tighter together. With every dig of his fingers into her curves, greedy and anxious, she needed the sharp buzz of friction burning between them. 

 

“Johnny.” His name fell out of her mouth before she knew she was speaking and then again, into a chant until she realized she was begging.

 

His kisses circled up her jaw to her ear. “I’ve got you.”

 

Darcy whimpered as worked herself down onto him, chasing at a hot throb that bloomed and then faded again. Johnny wrapped an arm around her waist as her legs started to shake, and pressed another into the sheets, his hips bucking up to meet hers. His other hand pressed between them, fingers swirling over her clit.

 

Her head fell back with a shout and Johnny was twisting them on the sheets. She landed with her head trailing off the edge, arms reaching back to grasp onto the corner of the mattress as he thrust into her in short, hard presses that dragged at her walls and pulled high notes of pleasure from her throat. His arm behind her back shifted down to pull her leg up, pressing it to her side. Every time he bottomed out inside of her she felt it ring out from her toes to the top of her and then back down into her center. She could hear her voice cracking in the room, Johnny’s breaths spilling over her neck and down her chest.

 

But her focus was between them where his thumb was pressing and rolling at her clit, bright sparks of electric pleasure bursting out until they were shattering through her, leaving her limp and barely aware of Johnny following after.

 

Darcy was still hiding her blush face down in Johnny’s pillow when he came back from the bathroom after cleaning them both up. The bed dipped as he joined her and she grabbed the hand that set gently on her waist, pulling him tighter against her back.

 

He kissed her shoulder and pulled her hair back from her face. “You okay?” he asked. His hand was caught in hers, pressed against her stomach and she could hear the note of concern. She rolled on the bed until her hair was wrapped around her head again and her face was pressed against his chest.

 

“I’m not usually loud like that,” she said into his skin.

 

His chest shook with repressed laughter and a bark of it escaped as she pinched his hip. “Sorry!” he said, half-giggling. “I believe you I just…can’t say I minded. Hey, you made this hickey kind of visible. Can I have some of that bruise cream?”

 

“No,” Darcy said, pushing her hair out of her face to smirk up at him. “I want Bucky to see it tomorrow.”

 

Johnny grimaced. “He won’t shut up about it all day.”

 

“Yeah, tell him to send me pictures. Hang on, I’ll just text him.” She rolled to reach her phone and Johnny pounced over her, body weighing pleasantly over hers as they wrestled to reach the side table. She had to cheat and search out his ticklish spots. His arms were too damn long. 

 

They both ended up abandoning the phone, hands shifting restlessly, mouths drinking from each other.

 

“Am I… is this too much?” he mumbled against her skin as their legs untwined and twisted to fit him between hers again. 

 

She shook her head against his kiss. “Don’t want to stop,” she said.

 

Jane  _ had _ warned her. 

  
  
  


June 20 th 2017

 

There were six missed calls on Darcy’s phone when she woke up. All from Jane. Just one voicemail demanding to hear from her. 

 

“What is it? What’s going on?” She managed to mangle putting her bra on in any semblance of order. Johnny stepped in to help which was only a little distracting, and surprisingly helpful.

 

“Close the shop today,” Jane said. “You need to come to the house. Thor…he’s got information. It’s…shit, Darcy. This is…”

 

“I’m on my way,” Darcy said, popping her head up through her t-shirt. “I’ve got to swing by the shop and then get up to the house,” she said to Johnny.

 

“I’m driving. Did she tell you what it was about?” Johnny passed over her jeans, where her underwear had been hiding inside. They’d been in a bit of a rush the night before, which she remembered with a blush. Johnny kissed her warm cheek and then went to change. “I’ll call in our coffee order and grab it while you take of the shop.”

 

Darcy opened her mouth to say…to say…something supremely stupid, really, and closed it again to get dressed.

 

Johnny parked the car in the drive after the errands and moved to get out.

 

“You don’t have to,” she said.

 

He paused, half-leaning out of the door of the car. His face was still and she realized he was trying to decide what she meant.

 

“If you need to be at the studio,” she tried again. “I can fill you in later. Or come by.”

 

His shoulders relaxed and he got out of his car. She followed and met him at the gate where he held it open for her. 

 

“Thanks,” she said, perking up on her tiptoes to steal a kiss.

 

“Darcy!”

 

She fell back to her heels with a grin and looked up at the house to see Thor, shirtless, freshly showered, barefoot Thor, waving from the deck.

 

“Holy shit,” Johnny muttered. “That dude is…a cartoon, right? He’s like…crazy buff.”

 

“Makes you question your sexuality, doesn’t he?” Darcy asked.

 

Johnny hummed and shrugged in agreement. She took his hand without thinking about, like that was where it belonged, and walked them up to the house. Where Thor promptly met them on the grass and lifted her up and out of Johnny’s grasp.

 

“It’s good to be home again,” Thor said, in his serious and sincere way that he seemed to use with absolutely no irony at all.

 

“It’s good to have you back, buddy,” Darcy said, chin propped on his warm shoulder as her legs dangled. She patted his back. “So, this is Johnny.”

 

Thor turned and set her down two steps up to the house before facing Johnny. He had his arms on his hips and Darcy was pretty sure he was flexing. Johnny gave her one, startled glance over Thor’s shoulder before Thor stepped forward. He was a little taller than Johnny but mostly, he was  _ bigger _ . And Johnny made her feel kind of dainty generally, although that might have had more to do with the way he touched her. But Thor was barrel chested with limbs that young trees could be jealous of where Johnny was tapered and tightly muscled.

 

It was both terrifying and thrilling to watch them face off.

 

“It’s really good to meet you,” Johnny said, his voice lowered and strangely casual. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” He reached his hand out to shake.

 

“I’ve heard a great deal about you as well,” Thor said, words rumbling like thunder at a distance.

 

Oh shit, Darcy thought, when Thor went in for the handshake. She winced in sympathy as Johnny’s attempt at a friendly smile turned into a comical grimace.

 

“Thor,” Darcy said.

 

Thor pumped Johnny’s hand three times in a somewhat over enthusiastic gesture before stepping back to smile up at her. 

 

“I hope you are happier now, Darcy,” Thor said, all bright and friendly. Johnny stuck the probably injured hand in his back pocket and paled. 

 

“I am very happy now, Thor,” she said, wondering if she might be allowed to burst into flames now, on the porch?

 

“What’s taking so long?” Jane asked from behind them. “Thor, were you male posturing? You said you’d tell them.”

 

“Tell us what?” Darcy asked. 

 

“I’m not familiar with that term,” Thor lied.

 

“Loki is Thor’s brother,” Jane said. 

 

Darcy’s head bounced back in sudden surprise. Both she and Johnny were staring at Thor who was shrugging down into his shoulders trying to look smaller. 

 

“Whoa,” Johnny whispered.

 

“You have a brother?” Darcy asked.

 

“We are estranged,” Thor said, scrubbing a hand over the short beard on his chin.

 

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt for this?” Jane asked. “Were you showing off?”

 

“I wanted Darcy to know that I supported her,” Thor said, blinking big blue eyes up at a baffled Jane. “And I wanted him to know I could break his bones if he hurt her.”

 

“Thor, no,” Darcy said, covering her face with her hands.

 

“Dude, I believe you,” Johnny said.

 

“You wanted to support Darcy, without your shirt on? Go get dressed.” Jane shook her head as Thor shuffled up the stairs and into the house. “Sorry,” she told Johnny. “He’s a total teddy bear, really.”

 

Johnny joined Darcy on the steps and she heard him mutter ‘grizzly bear’ under his breath.

 

“Loki,” Darcy said. “Loki is related to Thor?”

 

“Loki is adopted,” Jane said. “I knew about him, but not his name. It makes…well it makes more sense than it did before so come inside and let’s … oh, did you bring coffee for everyone? See, Johnny, you’ll be fine. It’s  _ my _ vote that matters.”

 

This time Johnny took her hand. “You’re happy?” he whispered.

 

Had she said that? She had said that. There were megalomaniac witches after their house or Jane or Thor or Natasha, or maybe even her. But she had said that.

 

“Yeah,” she said, squeezing his hand. He hissed. “Oh shit, sorry, he got that one, didn’t he?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are to me as moonlight is to Darcy.  
> THAT SAID, I am going to slow down a bit on this story. This upcoming week is going to exhaust me and I can feel myself dragging my feet a bit in the writing. I don't want the story to get lazy so I'm going to make sure to take my time and deliver the best that I am able.
> 
> Chapter 11 will be up Sunday Oct 1st! We'll have two weeks in between for awhile while fall makes me attend half a million personal and work related events. I love you and appreciate all the enthusiasm and support you've given this story!!


	12. 11. A Cliffhanger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR MILD VIOLENCE AND CHARACTER DEATHISHNESS.
> 
> I am very nervous for this chapter. I hope you are all on board for this next section of the story but if you aren't comfortable with violence/emotional conflict/dramatic stuff happening (to be honest, probably less than Marvel) please proceed with caution. If you're familiar with Practical Magic the movie then you'll have a better idea what we're headed into. If you aren't and would like a more detailed heads up, leave a comment or hit me up on tumblr @ragwitch.
> 
> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND UNDERSTANDING AND I HOPE TO SEE YOU ALL ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS CHAPTER I'M PROBABLY OVER WORRYING BUT WE'LL SEE.  
> thank you to janetsnakehole for magic beta help and cheerleading! thank you to bloomsoftly for being perfect, heart you bb!!

 

 

 

 

June 21 st 2017

 

“I’m not saying that isn’t some fucked up family crap,” Bucky said, twirling a blow pipe in his hand like he was one of those baton girls at fairs. “But it still sounds like Loki is a Grade A shit.”

 

Steve was wiping down the metal marver counter, scooping away bits of glass frit to save for later. He set the rag down and then jumped up to sit, Johnny's lips twitching irritably at the misuse of the space.

 

“How does Thor feel about all of this?” Steve asked. 

 

Darcy and Johnny were sharing a bench. She was smoothing salve over an old red streak down his forearm she’d been going to battle with for the past month. Johnny was leaning back into her, free hand fiddling with the frayed strands of her jeans over her knee.

 

“Thor says he’s come to terms with his brother’s flaws,” Darcy said. Johnny’s head turned on her shoulder to prompt her with a raised eyebrow. “It’s hard on him. He wants to make excuses for him but he can’t, not with everything that’s happened.”

 

“And the deeds Loki was looking for?” Bucky asked, joining Steve on the marver. Ben was sitting in the free bench, rubbing Jane’s miracle salve over the backs of his hands, stretching and flexing the stiff muscles as he listened. 

 

“Thor has them in a safety deposit box in Sweden,” Darcy said. “And their dad’s company has already been liquidated. Loki’s hunting after ghosts.”

 

“Thanos has his brain all twisted up,” Johnny said. 

 

His fingers slipped down the hole of her jeans, resting against her skin. Darcy wasn’t sure if it was the pesnya dushi bond stretching its wings now that she and Johnny were together, or if it was the stress of everything going on at the house and with Loki. But all she ever wanted to be doing was keeping skin to skin contact with Johnny. She’d never been a very demonstrative person in a relationship. (She’d never felt very strongly for someone in a relationship.) But she’d grown up tactile around a tender Natasha and a cuddly Jane and now she found herself constantly resisting the urge to curl up against Johnny, searching for somewhere warm to touch. Or not resisting the urge, if she was being honest. She gave up working at the old scar and let her chin fall to his shoulder and her arms circle around his chest. He immediately covered her arms with his own.

 

Bucky was smirking from the table but Darcy just ignored him. She wasn’t going to be embarrassed. Not in the hot shop, at least, where all the guys were plenty aware of just how mutual Johnny’s affection was for her. 

 

“So what do we do?” Ben asked. 

 

Darcy wondered absently if anyone had ever mentioned to Ben that he had a pretty spectacular aura around him. All oranges and glimmering silvers with dark bitter reds in splashes. She wondered what he would do if she told him and decided to save it for later.

 

“ _ We _ are going to make ornaments,” Johnny said.

 

The other’s noses all wrinkled simultaneously.

 

“Told you,” Johnny said, bumping his head against hers. 

 

“Jane and I are going to charge some ash and iron flakes and Johnny’s got a special glass chem compound coming in for them,” Darcy explained. “We’re hanging them up around the island before Loki and Thanos find any more cracks in the wards. Johnny already got the island to agree to it, they’re happy to boast the local talent.”

 

Johnny scoffed and Darcy bumped her head back in retaliation.

 

“Wait, we get to do magic?” Steve asked, perking up. 

 

“Yeah,” Darcy said and she and Bucky exchanged a smile at Steve’s spreading grin. No one who looked at Steve would’ve guessed he’d become such a massive nerd about witchcraft in so little time.

 

“I’ve been practicing meditation,” Steve said.

 

“It cuts into our morning sex, but he’s been very dedicated,” Bucky added.

 

“This is the A-team?” Johnny whispered. 

 

“That’s perfect,” Darcy said to Steve. “I’ll be generating a lot of the power but everything you can add will help.”

 

Johnny’s fingers threaded through hers. He had also been very patient the past couple evenings as Darcy had meditated and made teapot after teapot and taken charging baths with herbs and stones and candles surrounding her. And he hadn’t even complained one bit when she told him that sex was a powerful magical boost. He’d been  _ very _ supportive of that method in fact. And even after a day of dealing with a fussy mother of the bride who wanted a very specific selection of products in every single one of her gift baskets for a wedding party, she was still feeling head to toe electric with magic. Largely due to the handful of orgasms Johnny had insisted on giving her with his mouth at dawn.

 

“And if Loki shows back up?” Bucky asked.

 

“Thor is sort of Plan A,” Darcy said. “I mean Loki’s beef is with him, over the inheritance. So even if Thor can shake the hold Thanos has on Loki’s reasoning for being here, it may help us.”

 

“And if he’s too far gone?” Ben asked.

 

Darcy thought of the cabin in the woods, smeared in red, the voice that had crawled up out of Loki’s throat.

 

“I don’t know,” Darcy said. It hurt to admit. She and Jane had been trying to keep their words positive and Johnny and Thor had backed them up in that effort.

 

They were Romanova witches. They were strong. They would block Loki and Thanos out, build an impenetrable defense against them.

 

But that hadn’t happened.

 

“I don’t know,” she repeated and Johnny’s fingers were firm around hers. “I don’t know how we approach Thanos directly. I think…I think I could try to break the link between him and Loki.”

 

Johnny stiffened against her. They’d only broached the idea briefly the day before and given that involved her developing another link to Loki’s thoughts, or manipulating what was left of the original, he had been firmly opposed to the idea. Jane had too at first, but Thor was so grateful for any gesture of  _ saving _ his brother rather than  _ defeating _ him that she’d started to waffle.

 

“Is that safe?” Ben asked, and Darcy suspected he’d seen something on Johnny’s face.

 

“No,” she said. “It wouldn’t be. It’s only an option.”

 

“Not one we’re taking,” Johnny said, thoroughly stubborn.

 

She opened her mouth to argue and then thought better of it, and tucked a kiss behind his ear. 

 

As it turned out, Johnny was right. It wasn’t an option they would use.

  
  


June 22 nd 2017

 

Johnny walked into the shop fifteen minutes after closing while Darcy was wrapping up a customized gift basket for the customer she’d been gently pressing into making decisions for the past hour. 

 

“They’re closed,” the woman at the counter said helpfully to Johnny. She was from the mainland and had held an extensive email discussion with Jane over the past few months until Jane had ended it with an abbreviated ‘I think you’ll find our storefront very informative on scents and packaging.’ Figures Jane had taken the weekend off to spend with Thor when Ms. Details finally did come around.

 

“He’s just waiting for me,” Darcy said, finishing off the ribbon bow on the basket.

 

The woman gave Johnny, who was leaning against the cupboards and rubbing in a little tester of body butter onto the back of his hand, a longer look. When she turned back to Darcy she raised her eyebrows and said, “Sorry for keeping you.”

 

And Darcy was pretty sure she was being sincere. She buried her laughter and locked the door after the woman, flipping the open sign to closed in a reflex. (Some days she turned back after making it halfway down the block because she couldn’t actually remember whether or not she locked up.)

 

“You know I know the way back to my own house right?” Darcy asked Johnny as he followed her to the back room while she flipped the lights off. “You don’t have to come all the way down here to give me a ride back to the house.”

 

“By all the way down here I take it you mean…the three minutes of driving it takes?” Johnny asked her. “And that we’re just gonna ignore that Loki could be…anywhere at this point?”

 

“Not  _ ignore _ it,” Darcy said, scrambling for an argument against him. She swiveled in step after locking the door and popped up on her toes to kiss him softly, lingering against his lips to settle on, “I missed you.”

 

Johnny’s lips twitched as his eyes narrowed. “Damn,” he said. “That works every time.”

 

She tried not to look too smug. She  _ was _ letting him taking her home after all, despite all her protestations. She was going to have to start taking walks for  _ exercise _ if Johnny was going to make  her healthy habit of biking and walking to and from town moot. 

 

She filled him in on the indecisive day on the drive up, he told her about Steve’s small disaster in the kiln turning into a new project for him to experiment with and they pulled up to the house before Darcy even had time to regret the fossil fuels.

 

She’d barely made it out of the car, swinging the door shut, when she heard the shouting.

 

“Loki, enough! Your argument is with me.” It was Thor, in the backyard by the cliff, voice cracking out like a gunshot into the quiet afternoon.

 

Darcy was running through the gate with Johnny at her heels. The wards were intact. Darcy felt  _ sure  _ that Thor had been the one to let him in. Jane was still feeling the violation of the break in keenly, constantly checking locks and having Darcy add charms in the border gardens or to hang from the windows. 

 

“Darcy, wait,” Johnny said.

 

She hushed him with a wave of her hand, trying to make out the words in the smooth glide of Loki’s voice behind the house. 

 

“My argument has often been with you, Thor, but this woman has you so heavily charmed with protection,” Loki growled. “That I am now forced to seek recompense elsewhere.”

 

Darcy stopped in place as she reached the corner of the house and saw Jane on the ground, clawing at the grass, mouth gaping in a silent scream, eyes clamped shut. Thor was at her side, glaring up at Loki who looked as tidy as ever. But Darcy could see the snarls of red that wrapped around his head and wrists and chest.

 

“Jane!” she screamed. She wove through the gardens, pebbles kicking up behind her.

 

Loki turned and smiled at her approach, as if he were actually  _ happy _ to see her.

 

“Let her go,” Darcy spat. “We all know why you’re here and it isn’t Jane!”

 

“It’s what she’s hiding-” Loki started.

 

“Nobody is hiding anything here,  _ you idiot _ ,” Darcy said. She felt like there was a drum pounding inside of her. The evening was hot, the air heavy with a storm boiling closer to shore, and her blood was thumping hard through her veins, magic gathering in her palms. 

 

“I am owed-” Loki turned back to Jane as Darcy passed him and sank into the grass next to Jane.

 

She pressed her hand onto the center of Jane’s back and winced as Jane whimpered at the touch. She tried to spread love and healing, to clean out whatever poison Loki was using on her, but found herself too spiky, all the sharp edges and bright anger she had needed to use against him when she was on her own. 

 

“Your fucking inheritance,” Darcy said, turning to see that Johnny was frozen a few feet away, clearly struggling to push against whatever block Loki had set against him. “And that’s fine. But take it to court like everyone else.”

 

“Where is Natasha,” Loki hissed.

 

Darcy rose up from the ground, pressing a current of magic down into the earth by the soles of her feet, sending the power to Johnny until he stumbled in her direction, stepping up to her side.

 

“What do you want with Natasha?” Darcy asked. “Because, guess what? She doesn’t have your fucking inheritance either. It’s time for you to move on and leave my family out of this.”

 

“She is right, Loki,” Thor said, rising up to his feet, still standing guard over Jane. “We could settle this anywhere else. Release Jane, I beg you.”

 

Darcy made herself blink to clear away the clotted red that swam around Loki, and see the way his brow furrowed and his eyes twitched around the yard, down to Jane and over to Johnny.

 

“You touch him, I will break the bones in your hand,” Darcy hissed. 

 

Johnny was warm at her back, hand looping around hers. Loki snarled and paced away from them, closer to the cliffside, eyes narrowed and restless. His fingers trembled and the elbows of his shirt looked frayed, as if Darcy was suddenly seeing through a glamour he’d concocted.

 

“Your aunt,” he said, rounding at Darcy.

 

“Is dead,” Darcy said. She stepped closer. She was building something up in her chest, something that rushed through her, sweeping in circles around her heart. “She’s gone. She’s barely even in the house these days. What does your puppet master really think he’s going to do with a wisp of a ghost?”

 

“There are ways around death,” Loki said, all smooth and purring.

 

“Disgusting,” Jane spat from the ground.

 

“What she said,” Darcy added burying the twist and roll in her gut.

 

“You  _ play  _ at witchcraft,” Loki snapped, furious in a moment as if he were the wild-eyed Jack bursting out of the box, after too much winding on Darcy’s part. “You squander generations of power, of history, and for what?  _ Body wash? _ ”

 

“Do you really think you’re here for yourself?” Darcy screamed into Loki’s face. “You're just a pair of legs for Thanos to borrow. And do you know why? Because he’s an ancient old man!”

 

“Thanos is nearer to a god than the imaginings of the devout,” Loki snarled.

 

“He’s weak,” she said. Johnny fingers were wrapped around her wrist, gently warning and she wanted to throw him off her. 

 

Before she could, long cold fingers were wrapped around her throat.

 

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Johnny snarled, arm around her waist. It was too late. Loki had a good grip. 

 

“Loki, let her go,” Thor growled, yanking at his brother’s arms. But it only served to have Loki stumble closer to the edge, dragging Darcy along with him.

 

“Jesus, Thor, stop!” Johnny barked, and his touch was hot on her skin.

 

“What have you been storing up for, little moon bloom?” Loki hissed, fingers hard around her neck, making the air in her lungs thin. He bent his face down to hers until their noses were barely inches apart, eyes narrowing to thin slits of ice. “Were you looking for a fight?”

 

“Darcy,” Jane whispered on the ground from behind them and Thor rushed to her side.

 

“I was actually, yeah,” Darcy gasped out before swinging her free hand up to wrap around Loki’s neck in a mirror image of his hold on her. 

 

There was a charge of power, a circuit of magic that clashed painfully in Darcy’s chest as it spiraled between them. Her only reassurance was that she could feel him falter, the brittle crack of his control as she swept through like a tide. She was digging in, searching for some chink in the web Thanos had woven through Loki’s mind, even through his skin. The armor magic, the secrecy, and something like a veil over his perceptions that colored everything in bitter anger and an urgent need for destruction. Loki faltered a step and Darcy advanced.

 

There were hands digging their fingers into her stomach- Johnny trying to hold her back.

 

“Let him go, Darce,” Johnny whispered in her ear.

 

But he didn’t know that Darcy had just found Loki’s grip on Jane and she flooded it with bright magic until she heard Jane gasp sharply behind her, breaths heaving from her spot on the ground.

 

“You’re a puppet,” she managed to say to Loki, words barely catching enough air to make a sound. His grip tightened as he snarled and she choked, gray creeping in at the edges of her vision.

 

“Stop it!” Johnny yelled, voice close and sharp, and Darcy shut her eyes, trying to focus just as he reached out and wrapped a hand around Loki’s on her throat. 

 

She felt nails scratch the skin of her neck as Johnny grappled to free her. Jane was shouting her name behind them, Thor trying to soothe her and command Loki to release Darcy all in the same breath. Darcy tried to swallow, tried to sweep through the corruption in Loki’s mind just as Johnny managed to pry Loki’s fingers away from her. She sucked in a breath that was too deep just as she released the magic.

 

And suddenly, from nowhere, a tiny bundle of cotton and soft brown hair was charging into Loki’s stomach knocking him out of Darcy’s grasp until his toes were at the edge of the cliff and he was sliding off.

 

“Jane!” It was barely a sound but Darcy was diving forward, catching hold of Jane’s hand just as her own feet were skidding on crumbling grass.

 

Thor was clambering to the edge, a crisp blue sleeve in his grasp, boots digging into the earth as he tried to drag Loki back from the fall. His head was turning between the drop of the cliff to where Darcy was pulling a weak kneed Jane back to the grass, Johnny’s arms clamping tight around their waists as they collapsed, all knees and elbows into a pile.

 

“Loki,” Thor growled, forehead knotting, fabric slipping through a nervous grip. “Loki, reach up. Reach up!”

 

“He has me.” The words were soft and strangely light. Almost surprised.

 

“Loki. Reach your hand up, brother, I will - I can pull you up,” Thor begged even as his knees slid forward.

 

Jane crawled over Darcy’s lap and for a moment Darcy wondered if she was going to help Thor pull him up, or convince him to let Loki fall. It was an ugly thought and as Johnny wrapped his arms around her shoulder, scooting them back farther from the edge, she hid her face in his neck.

 

But she could still hear it.

 

“He has me.”

 

“Loki!!” Thor bellowed and Jane screamed behind her hands and Johnny broke out in a sudden startled cry as earth broke apart on the cliffside. Darcy folded herself in the grass and covered her ears with her hands, biting into her knee to keep from screaming, a wounded sound crawling up from her throat. 

 

Johnny scrabbled to Thor’s side and both men released pained yells as the steady waves that beat against the cliff were broken with a sharp splash.

 

“Oh god,” Jane whispered.

 

Darcy squeezed her eyes shut and when a small hand wrapped around her foot she reached down to squeeze back, to anchor herself. There was a siren in her ears that was drowning out the sound of the waves, the sound of her own breathing if she even was breathing. Everything was numb and tingling and raw and she realized that she’d pushed away the every last thread of magic she’d been saving up. Sent it into Loki and the air and the ground until she felt boneless and sore and jangling.

 

“…My boat. Need to go down to the water,” Thor was saying as the ringing sound softened in her head.

 

“The rocks,” Jane whispered. “Be careful.”

 

“I’ll manage them,” Thor said. Everyone sounded gentle, or careful like they were tiptoeing around glass. “It’s high tide.”

 

Darcy lifted her head up and her neck ached with the effort. Jane lifted her hand off her foot and stood up, hanging back from Thor, face fragile and open. Johnny hit the grass heavily at her side and Darcy let him pull her up by the elbows. She could hear Thor murmuring to Jane and she pressed her own face into Johnny’s chest. His thumbs pressed into her shoulders, finding knots, and he buried his face down into her loose hair.

 

“I’m going with Thor,” he whispered. “Stay in the house, okay?”

 

“Jane and I can call…” Darcy started but then stopped. Her eyes popped open as she remembered Jane barreling past her into Loki’s chest. 

 

“Wait,” Johnny said. “Wait for us to get back okay? We’ll decide what to do then.”

 

There were protocols on the island for drownings, ones they had grown up with in school, lessons in health class. Because of course there was always going to be a few idiot teenagers who thought of daring each other off the edge of a cliff, with half a pack of beer or a bottle of cheap vodka. None of the protocols included waiting to call the authorities. But Darcy didn’t want to call the authorities. She didn’t want  _ Jasper Sitwell _ showing up here to investigate a fall…a…

 

“Go in the house,” Johnny said, lifting her face up to meet his gaze. “Stay in the house, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she said, tongue heavy in her mouth. Johnny pulled back and she could see Thor and Jane too close to the edge of the cliff, Thor’s hand at the back of Jane’s head, lips moving at her ear, free arm wrapped tight around her waist. When Jane nodded briefly Thor moved them farther into the yard. Safer, Darcy thought, a bubbly lightheadedness taking over. 

 

Jane’s hand was in hers, their fingers loose, and Darcy watched Johnny and Thor walking across the yard, down the stone garden path, heads bowed. Jane kept stopping on their way to the greenhouse doors, pausing in place, eyes scanning around them, landing back at the cliff.

 

“Inside,” Darcy prompted, tugging softly on Jane’s hand. 

 

“Car,” Jane murmured.

 

“That’s Thor and Johnny leaving,” Darcy said.

 

“Darcy, Darcy, I-“

 

Darcy stopped on the greenhouse steps and looked down into Jane’s stunned face, pale and slack.

 

“Come inside, Janey,” Darcy coaxed, gently pulling her cousin up the stairs, lifting at her elbows when her feet missed and stumbled. “I’m making tea.”

 

Valerian root, lemon balm, passionflower. What would Jane mix? Add lavender.

 

Darcy pushed Jane onto a stool at the kitchen island, sliding a small plate of leftover brownies in front of her before pulling them away again with a glance at Jane’s greening face. She lifted her back up off the stool and guided her to the sink, twisting her hair into a quick braid as Jane bent and retched into porcelain.

 

Ginger for nausea.

 

No, that was too many flavors. 

 

Darcy bit her lip and stared up at the ceiling, rubbing Jane’s back and willing the tears trying to slide free back into their ducts.

 

What would Natasha do?

 

Vodka. They needed vodka.

 

Jane gagged softly and Darcy winced. Ginger tea first. Then vodka.

 

_

 

Thor and Johnny made it back to the house after dark. Thor was wet, head to toe, like he’d dove into the water and gone swimming for his brother, and Johnny had rope burn around his palms. But they came back alone.

 

“No sign of him,” Johnny whispered to her, and he leaned heavily against Darcy at the kitchen counter, face burying itself back into her hair, nose nuzzling behind her ear. She worked around him, spreading Jane’s best potions into his hands. “You smell like alcohol.”

 

“Been drinking,” Darcy said.

 

“It help?”

 

“Nope.”

 

When they made it back to the library, Thor was sitting in front of the fire, steaming in the heat with his hands firmly around Jane’s.

 

“We aren’t calling anyone,” Thor said firmly, and Jane’s head drooped a little further as if she’d just lost the argument.

 

Neither Johnny or Darcy spoke. She didn’t feel as if it was really up to her. It was Thor’s brother. And Jane…Jane had pushed him. She looked up at Johnny and found him studying her, brow furrowed, something frightened in his gaze.

 

She felt a little sick now too.

 

“Where’s the alcohol?” Johnny whispered.

 

“Here,” Thor answered before taking a swift chug and holding it out to Johnny. 

 

Johnny crossed the room to take the bottle and Thor lifted Jane up from the carpet to hold her against his soaked chest in front of the fire. Darcy stood in the doorway watching Johnny take a long drink, grimacing and gasping as he pulled away, and felt her heart sinking.

  
  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i love you please forgive me i hope this is okay yikes!
> 
> also, this is totally going to be the longest work i have ever written how did this happen or is it all my author notes, whoops!
> 
> Chapter 12 will be here October 15th! or October 13th if I'm feeling cheeky.
> 
> Do you love Halloween? follow me on tumblr @ragwitch where I am posting darcyland halloween drabbles all month long.


	13. 12. Chinks and Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in the aftermath of the fall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience this month in the longer wait updates. I've definitely slowed down quite a bit and I lost my reserve chapter. That said my goal is to update in two weeks!
> 
> This is temporarily unbetaed cause I'm a flaily mess but I'll come back and tweak with corrections once janetsnakehole has had time to look it over.

 

 

July 23rd 2017

 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Johnny sat down in the grass at her side, wrapping his arms around his knees and propping his chin in a mimic of her own position.

 

“I don’t know what to say,” Darcy said.

 

There were crickets trilling around them in the dark. It was a new moon and Darcy wasn’t sure if that was why her body felt like someone had stitched her up with rocks under her skin, or if it had to do with the day before.

 

“I don’t need you to say anything,” Johnny said.

 

“Then why are you out here?” She asked. Some ached in her chest and she whispered, “Go home, Johnny.”

 

The words hit her first, the choking sound from Johnny’s throat second, the sudden shift of him jumping up from the ground and leaving her in the grass third. Her eyes were burning as she lifted her hands up to cover her face, screaming silently into her palms. Her heart was punishing her with a sharp tearing when warm fingers wrapped around her wrists and pulled her hands back from her face, gentle and firm.

 

Johnny was there, eyes tight and lips hard, but he was in front of her.

 

“Stop doing this,” he said, and the words were harsh. “Darcy, you have to stop doing this. I don’t know if you’re testing me or-“

 

“I’m not, I swear,” she said, twisting in his hold to grab at him in return, clutch at him to keep him from running.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Johnny said, eyes growing open again. “But you fucking shut me out like this and--I’m not going to force myself on you, okay? I need to know if you want me to be here.”

 

“I want you here.” There were tears falling out of her eyes and she was trying to pull them closer together even as he was resisting. “Johnny somebody _died_ . You were here and Loki died, and it’s _our_ fault-“

 

“It’s not.”

 

“It’s my fault that you’re here. That you’re part of this. That you had to _witness_ that.”

 

Johnny’s face broke, crumpling, and then he had her wrapped up in his hold, face pressed into the spot just below his throat she always found. Her fingers clutched at his t-shirt as dry sobs broke free from her chest against his.

 

“It’s not, it’s not,” he chanted into her hair. “It’s not your fault. I’m always going to be here.”

 

“We could go to jail,” Darcy whispered.

 

Johnny’s fingers slid into her hair, lips pressing to the top of her head. There was nothing to say to that. None of them really knew what would happen if Loki’s body turned up. Although Darcy had run countless scenarios through her head.

 

He would never be found.

 

His body would wash up and be unidentifiable.

 

It would be identified but no one would ever know why he came to the island, what business he had at the house on the cliff.

 

He had a plan for this to incriminate them, insurance against any violence. Jasper Sitwell would gladly turn on the Romanova women. Jane would be put in, maybe the both of them, left to wither without magic in a cell. Johnny would move on without her.

 

She wrapped her arms around his waist as if to keep him there with her, to guard against all the worst possibilities.

 

“Stop it,” Johnny said into her ear. “Stop torturing yourself. Come inside with me.”

 

“I can’t lose Jane,” Darcy whispered. “I can’t lose you.”

 

He sat back on his heels, untangling her arms from around him and smoothing her hair away from her face. She leaned into his palm.

 

“It’s not gonna happen, okay,” he said. “I’m on your team. Darcy I-“ he broke off and Darcy looked up. She knew what he wanted to say and she was both ready to hear it, and sure that today was not the day for the words.

 

She wrapped her hands around his arms. “Let’s go inside.”

 

Johnny stood up and pulled her along with him, drawing her against his side to lean there. “You want Jane? She’s been in the kitchen for a few hours and Thor says it’s better if he leaves her there.”

 

Darcy appreciated that Johnny sounded a little skeptical of the idea. “He’s right,” Darcy assured him. “Jane’s processing or avoiding or maybe she’s just…working, but it’s better to let her do her thing right now. Thor knows how long to let her stew before making her take a break.”

 

Johnny hummed and his thumb stroked along the back of her hand and they passed the greenhouse to leave Jane in peace in the kitchen.

 

“So, what do you need?” he asked. He caught her looking at him and gave her a half-smile. “I don’t know these things yet. And I don’t want to bother the others so…what should I do?”

 

Darcy bit her lip as they walked up the front steps and into the house. He’d already broken her out of the spiraling panic outside. She didn’t know what else to ask for, or how to go about the asking. She’d tried to think of what Natasha had done when she was young and her heart was breaking almost every day at school. Or how she and Jane coped after Natasha died.

 

“I need to focus on something other than myself,” Johnny said.

 

He’d been in bed with her when she woke up in the morning, although he’d been downstairs drinking when she slunk away from the others. And he’d woken up hungover and quiet. There will still dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense and high.

 

“I’m going to steal some tea from the kitchen,” Darcy said and stepped into his chest to settle him down from the flinch in his eyes. “Find a book to read and meet me upstairs.”

 

“Ohhkay,” he said, frowning a little. But he didn’t press when she left him to walk down to the kitchen.

 

Jane didn’t look up as she entered but she passed Darcy the chamomile without a word. Darcy stepped up to the other woman’s back and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, holding loosely until Jane’s nerves settled and she relaxed for a moment. Darcy squeezed, once, and then let her go back to work, waiting for the kettle to steam.

 

“Take some to Thor, for me?” Jane said into the old pot above the wood stove.

 

“Of course,” Darcy said.

 

Thor was in the living room by the fireplace, staring at the few flames left licking at the remains of old logs. She set the tea down next to him and started to retreat.

 

“I don’t blame her,” Thor said.

 

“I didn’t think you did,” Darcy said. She had seen it on his face after Loki had fallen, when he’d gotten back with Johnny. There was no resentment there. It didn’t make things simpler for Jane. “Just don’t let her stay in the kitchen all night. Make brownies.”

 

“She hates my brownies,” Thor said, looking up at her finally, face puzzled, eyes red and tired.

 

“Yeah, it’ll help distract her,” Darcy said.

 

Thor scoffed and the corner of his mouth lifted for a moment. “I don’t mind him so much, now,” Thor said, glancing up at the ceiling.

 

“Yeah. Me neither,” Darcy said, smiling.

 

“I am glad you are in good hands,” Thor said, somehow making her feel small in front of him despite staying relaxed in his armchair by the fire.

 

“I’m glad Jane is,” Darcy said, patting Thor lightly on the shoulder. “But if you need her right now you should tell her. She’s worrying about you. She’s just…afraid.”

 

Thor’s eyes flickered over to the door and back to Darcy. “Do I give her time or not?”

 

Darcy checked the clock. “Give her an hour if you can stand it.”

 

Thor shifted slightly in his chair, sniffing at the tea. Darcy figured he’d wait another thirty minutes now. And given the curl of Jane’s hair in the kitchen, that should be just about the right timing for pulling her out of her project.

 

Johnny was waiting upstairs in her bed, pushed against the window, two books in his lap. One was a magical text on drawing down the moon, the other was a well loved book of short stories. Darcy crawled into the bed and settled down against Johnny’s side, putting the magical book down on the window sill with the mugs of tea. She picked the other one up, _Elementals: Stories of Fire and Ice_ and thumb through until she found the one about the ice maiden who fell in love with the scorching desert prince. She passed the book over to Johnny.

 

“Read to me?” she asked.

 

Johnny startled beneath her, hands fidgeting along the book.

 

“I’m not a very good reader,” he said.

 

She remembered him from school, steady and simple and slow. She’d always liked it, but maybe she had just enjoyed hearing his voice without the sneer or the sarcasm.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Darcy said, burrowing down against his side. “I just want to listen.”

 

“Kay.” He propped the book in one hand and the other drifted down to tangle his fingers in her hair as he started the story.

  


July 24th 2017

 

Johnny said it first, over warm cups of coffee in her bed the next morning.

 

“We won’t tell the others.”

 

Darcy swallowed, hands wrapped around the black soup-bowl-sized mug she’d found at the grocery store around halloween that read ‘Witch, Please’ in curly white letters.

 

“They’re our friends. They’ll want to know what happened,” she said. She agreed with Johnny. It would be better to leave the others out of the…event with Loki. The moment on a cliff she couldn’t wrap her thoughts around and couldn’t close her eyes without remembering vividly.

 

“They’ll want to know why Loki isn’t a problem anymore,” Johnny said, as if the two weren’t connected. “And we can say…Thor talked to him. It’s…”

 

“Almost like the truth,” she said, looking up from her mug into Johnny’s weary eyes.

 

He stretched to set his coffee down on the window ledge and then settled back to wrap his hands around her shoulders, ducking his head until she met his gaze.

 

“I don’t like it either. And I trust those guys, I do,” Johnny said, scooting forward across the sheets and drawing her closer. “But right now I’m going to focus on you. And if I know you, you’re gonna focus on Jane.”

 

Darcy nodded and bit her lip.

 

“Are you still waiting for me to decide I’ve had enough and walk out?” Johnny asked, voice dropping gently, thumbs brushing softly over her shoulders.

 

“A little,” she answered in a whisper. Johnny took a deep breath, looking down at their laps and she rushed on, “I know…I know you won’t.” He blinked and looked up at her and she tried to smile for him. “I’m just…This is so much more than high school feuds and the island pariah dating the golden boy.”

 

Johnny made an uncomfortable face at the last bit and shook it off. “It is. It’s…I’m not done processing either, okay? I don’t know if we’ve done the right thing, I can barely think straight about what happened but…we’re in this together. I chose that when I walked into the shop last month, and when I fought a shadow and…It’s definitely a different dating experience than I predicted,” he said, somewhat dazed.

 

Darcy found herself laughing against her better judgement and buried it as quickly as she could, stuffing giggles behind pursed lips.

 

“I feel a little insane,” she said when she settled.

 

“I don’t know what I feel,” Johnny said. “Someone died and I couldn’t do anything about it and I don’t know if I’m responsible or if I’m relieved or what I should be doing to keep it a secret. I thought about googling it but I figured we wouldn’t want that on my search history if something turned up later.”

 

“What if he isn’t…” Darcy whispered. They hadn’t found Loki in the water and while it seemed _impossible_ …

 

“I..I’ve thought about that and I…don’t know what to feel about it either,” Johnny said. “It would be…would it be good?”

 

Darcy wasn’t really sure either.

 

_

 

The shop was thankfully quiet that Monday. Darcy hadn’t expected Jane to come with her, although she couldn’t verbalize why without cringing. It felt strange to be facing the shelves, cleaning the tester displays, smiling as the door opened with the ringing bells. She and Jane passed each other with soft touches, rousing one another from empty stares, and for the last half hour they stood together at the counter like eerie statues waiting for the minutes to tick away.

 

“Thor went out in the boat today,” Jane said as Darcy locked the front door.

 

“Oh.”

 

“He didn’t find anything, he just texted.”

 

“Should we…should we look?” Darcy asked as Jane turned the lights off. Jane paused with her hand on the light switch. “Should we scry for him?”

 

Jane turned, face flat and eyes anxious. “Should we?”

 

They stood in silence for a long moment before Darcy walked forward and took Jane’s hand in hers, leading them out the back door. Johnny was waiting for them at the back of the shop. Jane slid in behind Johnny and Darcy hopped into the passenger seat, his hand finding hers before going to the gear shift.

 

“What did you tell them?” Jane asked.

 

Johnny frowned and pulled out onto the street. “That they had to wait a few more days to come up to the house. You and Thor are still…” He glanced at Darcy as his lips hung open. He’d probably managed to pull it off as a joke with Bucky and Steve and Ben, but in the car with the three of them it was never going to land.

 

“I miss them,” Jane whispered. “But I’m not ready to see them.”

 

“Well they were being shits in the studio today so I’m glad for the break,” he said with strained levity. Darcy squeezed at his knee and his hand came down from the steering wheel to tangle their fingers together.

 

When they arrived home Natasha was in the garden, tearing up plants.

 

“Darcy?” Johnny asked, urgent, nervous.

 

Not that she could blame him, nothing good ever followed her rushing out of the car.

 

“It’s just Natasha,” she said over her shoulder and she heard Jane and Johnny murmuring together in her wake.

 

Streaks of faded red were zipping up and down the garden paths, daffodil roots lying on the ground, branches of rosemary and juniper scattered across the pebbles.

 

“Natasha what’s going on?”

 

Cold and heat stroked up her arms. _I’ve caused so much trouble, malen’kaya ved’ma_ . _Causing so much trouble_. The words were small and broken in her head, little staccato notes of stress.

 

“It isn’t your fault, we know that,” Darcy whispered, scooping herbs and flowers up off the ground and finding a horrible ache in her chest as she catalogued every plant.

 

_Won’t be much more now. Won’t be much longer._

 

“Oh, Natasha, please,” Darcy said, her voice cracking as Jane’s palm landed gently on her back. “Please, calm down. Please don’t do this.”

 

 _Need to take care of my girls, little ved’mas_. There was a bright kiss at her cheek and a snap of a sage branch. Jane plucked the bundle from Darcy’s hands as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Johnny picked up the sage from the ground and hurried to Darcy, startled by the broken cry sobbing out from her throat.

 

“What? What is it?” Johnny asked, sage leaves brushing at her cheeks as he lifted his hands to her face.

 

She pressed herself against his chest, wanting to tear the sage out of his hands and stomp it into the ground, but needing the solid feel of him more.

 

“It’s Natasha,” Jane said, soft and sorry. “I think…I think she wants us to exorcise her.”

 

Johnny squeezed Darcy’s hand in a vice grip as she tossed the collection of plants over the side of the cliff. Jane sagged in the greenhouse doorway, face in hands. Thor made it back to the house shortly after, finished with his fruitless search. Johnny made grilled cheese sandwiches as Darcy tried to talk him into going back to his apartment for a break from her, from the house, from all of the magic and horror. Thor vetoed her suggestion and ate three of the sandwiches himself.

  


July 26th 2017

 

Darcy opened the front door at the crack of dawn, near to growling, to find Bucky and Steve on the porch, coffees and pastry bags in hand.

 

“We’re calling bullshit,” Bucky said. “Let us in.”

 

“Don’t wake anyone,” Darcy said, stepping back to let them shoulder in. Bucky passed her with the food and drinks, heading for the kitchen but Steve stopped for a long hug until Darcy had to push him away or burst into tears.

 

There was a coffee and a little egg scramble pastry waiting for her on the counter when she managed to coax Steve into following her without checking on her every other second.

 

“You look tired,” Bucky said, nudging at the coffee cup.

 

“You woke me up,” she said, and she let her voice be as whiney as it wanted.

 

“Johnny’s distracted in the studio,” Steve said, breaking up his triple chocolate muffin into crumbling pieces as he ate.

 

“I know,” Darcy said. She had dealt with the fresh burn the night before, wrestling an irritable Johnny into a chair, ignoring his eye rolls as she lectured on safety.

 

“Darce?” Johnny mumbled from the hall before tripping his way into the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, grimaced at the sight of his friends and then padded over to her side.

 

“Cover it up, Storm,” Bucky said, cheerfully snipping at his favorite opponent who was shirtless, eyes heavy lidded with sleep.

 

Johnny ignored him in favor of taking the coffee Steve passed him. “Told you guys to stay out of our hair.”

 

“They can’t fuck like rabbits _every_ hour of the day,” Bucky said. “And even if they could you and Darcy wouldn’t look so completely miserable about it cause you’re just as bad yourselves.”

 

Johnny couldn’t seem to decide on whether he felt offended or proud of the accusation and the result was a sleepy compromise of a disgruntled shrug and a possessive arm over Darcy’s shoulders. She let it slide because it was chilly in the kitchen and Johnny was perpetually cozy and warm.

 

“There was a blow out with Loki,” Darcy said.

 

Johnny stiffened at her side and lifted the coffee cup up to his lips to hide his expression.

 

“What happened?” Steve asked just as Bucky sat up straighter and asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

 

“It was…everyone’s still a little sore about it,” Darcy said. “We’re all fine. No one…nothing happened. But it was ugly.”

 

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Where is Loki now?”

 

“Gone,” Johnny said.

 

“We think,” Darcy added. “We think it’s…resolved, I guess.”

 

Johnny’s fingers made spirals over her shoulder and she wasn’t sure if it was meant to soothe her or if he was fidgeting under the lies.

 

“Seriously?” Bucky said, face twisted and eyebrows raised. “You think he’s just going to give up.”

 

“No,” Darcy said, not meaning to but thinking of Thanos and finding the word already spoken.

 

“So we’re going to go ahead with the globes?” Steve asked.

 

“Yes,” Darcy said.

 

Johnny was looking at her, face blank. They hadn’t discussed the globes. But it had been their Loki Plan and she supposed that they had all mentally dropped the notion. Now she couldn’t shake the idea that they should stay.

 

“Best case scenario,” Darcy said, turning to stare back into Johnny’s eyes. “They’ll help protect the island. Just like we’ve always done.”

 

Johnny nodded softly just as Jane and Thor entered from the hallway.

 

“Oh my god,” Bucky whispered.

 

Thor was also shirtless and bleary eyed but he smiled gently at the two strangers as Jane practically sleep-walked her way to the coffee Steve held out to her.

 

“You must be Steve and Bucky,” Thor said, more morning person than anyone else living in the house. “I take it I have you to thank for making Johnny less of an ass than the stories I’ve heard from Darcy and Jane.”

 

“No,” Johnny said. “No they are not-“

 

“You absolutely do,” Bucky said, beaming at Thor as Steve nodded, his head bouncing rhythmically as he eyed Thor’s bare chest.

  


July 27th 2016

 

Johnny grunted softly, face down on her mattress, bare from head to toe, as Darcy worked Jane’s newly designed burn protection potion into the planes of his back.

 

“Feels good,” he mumbled, face smashed against her sheets as she dug her fingers into the tops of his shoulders, smoothing circles of oil over his skin.

 

“The magic or the massage?” Darcy asked, smiling.

 

He had protested her wearing anything, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to focus for long if she was stretched over him, the pair of them naked. She was fairly certain Johnny wouldn’t have let her finish her work in that state. A little nightgown wasn’t really proving much protection from the temptation as it was. She’d started at his toes and worked her way up the backs of his legs and Johnny had shifted restlessly beneath her hands the whole way.

 

Now at least he seemed to be relaxing. He had yet to answer her question. She tiptoed her fingers up the back of his neck with firm presses until they were sliding through the soft strands of his hair.

 

“Mnnnoo, mnot ma hair.” Johnny’s voice slurred but he barely even twitched until her nails were scratching behind his ears.

 

“Every inch,” she said working along his jaw until his mouth was hanging loose, just a little smile at the corners. “I know you well enough to know that there’s no spot safe from you finding a way to burn it.”

 

He huffed a little and then hummed as she rubbed circles into his temples. His eyes were shut and his breaths were slow and deep, back rising and falling beneath her thighs. She stroked her fingers through his hair, as she watched him doze, ran a finger over the worry line on his forehead, at the edges of his hair that were starting to gleam gray instead of blonde. He snuffled softly and shook himself awake as she ran one fingertip down the shell of his ear.

 

“Roll over for me,” she said.

 

He blinked for a moment and then squirmed and rolled between her legs, arms thrown back over his head to flop on her pillows as he stared up at her. She poured a small dollop of the oil into the palm of her hand and warmed it up before leaning forward to start at his hands.

 

“I’m going to get hard,” he said. He already was a little.

 

“I know,” Darcy said. She focused on his thumbs first, then his index finger, and so on, giving every joint equal attention as her thumbs dug and spiraled around his palms.

 

His breath was brushing over her throat, warm and heavy as her fingers circled his wrists.

 

“Darce,” he breathed, something needy in the back of her name.

 

“I’m taking care of you,” she said, leaning down to leave a dry kiss at his jaw pulling away as his mouth sought out her throat. She sat back on her heels and lifted up her nightdress to pull it over her head. Johnny’s hands spread over her ribs, sliding up to push her breasts up, fingers framing her nipples to pinch them lightly. She shuffled over his hips, pushing her underwear down and trying to find a way out of them that didn’t involve getting out of the bed.

 

Johnny shifted his hold to her back and pulled her down against them, their chests pressing together as he kissed her, tongues stroking together as he helped her wiggle out of her panties. She pushed him back to the mattress as he tried to roll them over.

 

“You’re so wet,” he said into the skin of her neck. “Lemme touch you, please.”

 

She swung her leg back over his hip and took his arms from around her back to lay them back above his head. “You can touch when I’m done,” she said.

 

Johnny’s forehead knotted and he started to muffle a sounds of disappointment, until she lined them up, the head of his cock sliding against her wet slit, before sinking down onto him in a slow glide. Then he groaned openly, baring his throat to her as he arched back, hips bucking gently.

Darcy bit her lip, swirling her hips lightly until they both sighed as he bottomed out inside of her. She took three long breaths, watching Johnny’s chest heave below as he looked down his chest to where they were joined and then up into her face, brow furrowed in confusion. She reached for the oil, trying to ignore the way he shifted inside of her, the drag and stretch of him. She rubbed the potion in her palms until they were smooth and slippery and then settled them down onto his chest.

 

“Every inch,” she said again with a smile.

 

Johnny laughed a little, grinning back at her, before his face tightened in pleasure as she leaned forward, rising up off him to spread her hands up over his shoulders and along his arms until she reached his wrists. As she worked her way back down his forearms, making sure to work oil into every scar and over every bit of miraculously unblemished skin, she sank back down onto him one fraction at a time.

 

“Diabolical pixie,” he said through gritted teeth.

 

She pulled off again until just the tip of him was inside of her and then rocked there for a long moment, her breaths panting as she coated his elbows.

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Darcy said. “I never said you couldn’t _move_.”

 

Johnny’s eyes opened at that and Darcy grabbed more oil as she felt his legs shifting behind her. She braced slippery palms on his biceps and let a cry bounce free from her throat as Johnny began to buck beneath her.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me some sugar, I appreciate it so much!
> 
> Let's all keep our fingers crossed to see each other again on Oct 29th!
> 
> come visit me @ragwitch on tumblr for lots of halloweeny shorts being posted all month long.


	14. 13. Something Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...something is rotten at the sweet chariot music festival!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I LOVE YOU YOU GUYS YOU ARE SO AWESOME AND NICE AND I APPRECIATE YOU :D <3
> 
> The Sweet Chariot Music Festival is real AND so is Odd Fellow's Hall, although I have never been to either and I haven't been to Swan's Island so I'm sure I'm not doing them any justice. Also, I'm pretty sure this summer's music festival went more smoothly.
> 
> A super hearty thanks to janetsnakehole for whipping this chapter into shape and to zephrbabe for allowing me to rant at her in no particular direction and then answering it and sparking my brain back to life. <3

 

 

July 30 th 2017

 

There was copper on her tongue and something like warm, wet, velvet running over her skin. She opened her eyes and everything was a dense, shifting red, like theater curtains pulling away to reveal the scene. But when she tried to call out the color flooded in, cloying and thick like syrup, bitter like blood. She thrashed and her movements were milky and loose, floating in space with the pulsing glow sliding over her skin like a tongue. She screamed and air gurgled in her throat, liquid filling her lungs.

 

“Darcy! OW!”

 

She sat up and she was in bed, her hand fisted in Johnny’s hair, yanking his face back on his neck. Her fingers were tight on the strands for a long moment, his startled blue eyes vivid in the dark. Her chest burnt and she let go of him with a gasp, sucking air back into her lungs and realizing she’d been holding her breath.

 

“Hey, pixie,” Johnny whispered slowly, as she curled away from him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Bad dream, just a bad dream.”

 

It  _ was _ , she realized. She’d woken up from a nightmare. Johnny’s hands were soothing down her side, gently tugging her back to face him. He brushed at her cheeks and there were wet tracks there, she’d been crying.

 

“It’s okay. Darce, you okay?”

 

“I-” she took another deep breath. “I don’t remember it? The dream,” she added at his blank look. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

She nodded, brain scrabbling for some foothold in her own terror, some concrete image to remember and make sense of her racing heart and shaking hands. Johnny gathered them up in his own, laying back against the pillows and drawing her down against them, gently pinning her trembling arms between them. His hands slid over her ribs to tangle in the ends of her hair.

 

“Bound to have bad dreams hanging around,” Johnny murmured.

 

Darcy had her ear pressed to his chest and the notes of his voice hummed in her head, ushering away something slick and sinister that’d been slithering around in the background since she’d woken up. She shifted and settled into a more comfortable spot, leaving Johnny surrounding her as she fell back asleep.

 

“We’re okay,” he said as her eyes fell shut.

 

The words were soft, vibrating beneath her cheek.

  
  


August 1 st 2017

 

Pepper Potts’ heels clicked against the floor of the shop, the strains of a fiddle following her in from the street. Jane was on the floor, managing to make conversation with the tourists while Darcy managed a steady line of people checking out at the register.

 

The Sweet Chariot Music Festival was in swing, the island was packed to the rafters, and every so often Darcy caught herself feeling like everything was normal. Even with the addition of Johnny in her life. Perhaps  _ because _ of the addition of Johnny, as if he had settled some unevenness left from his absence. 

 

And then she would catch sight of Jane, eyes distant and face stricken, and the world would wobble and Darcy’s heart would stutter again. 

 

“You got away from the hotel,” Darcy said, managing a smile as Pepper made it to the desk, three gift baskets balanced in her arms.

 

“Barely,” Pepper said with her own tight smile. “And only by coming up with an errand that needed running. Does Jane have any…”

 

Darcy had already turned behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of Pepper’s preferred scent off the wall.

 

“At last,” Pepper said, with a sigh. “Someone who can read my mind. I’m leaving these baskets in a few of the artists rooms. Drum up some interest for you.”

 

“We appreciate it,” Darcy said sincerely. “Anyone I shouldn’t miss?”

 

Pepper shrugged and it managed to feel diplomatic. “To be honest,” she said under her breath. “I don’t really care that much for folk music. But don’t tell Tony. I can barely keep him from making fun of our guests to their faces.”

 

Darcy hid her snort and finished tallying Pepper up. The perfume she left off the bill. Pepper and Tony were always sending people into The Lab or up to the house. And Pepper managed to be  _ gracious _ about it.

 

She packed the gift baskets into a large canvas tote for Pepper and caught the woman biting at her lip and studying Darcy’s face. She smiled when caught and blushed slightly.

 

“I don’t mean to listen to gossip,” Pepper said, voice lowered, and Darcy’s stomach flipped nervously. “But I caught on to the stir about you and Johnny Storm. All I’ll say is…I’m glad you’re happy. And I don’t mind if some of the local mom squad isn’t.”

 

Darcy coughed, or laughed, or some combination of the two and found her mouth shifting between a grin and a slack jaw.

 

“Tony won’t admit it, but he likes Johnny’s work. We’ve got some of his earlier works around the hotel. We should all get dinner sometime,” Pepper said. “Thor and Jane too.”

 

“That sounds great,” Darcy said, because there wasn’t anything else to say and it was an invitation she’d never imagined getting.

 

A group date. With Tony Stark, and Pepper Potts…and Johnny too, for that matter. The Romanova girls…on a group date with their boyfriends and the island moguls.

 

It might even make the paper.

 

“See you around the festiva, I’m sure,” Pepper trilled on her way out.

 

Darcy rang the next customer up three times before getting it right. 

  
  


August 3 rd , 2017

 

Thor was handy in a crowd, towering over the sea of heads around them in Odd Fellows’ Hall while a band with too many musicians to count trilled a sea shanty on the stage. 

 

“His head is quite large, yes?” Thor called down to her.

 

Darcy’s face scrunched, puzzled, and turned to catch Jane’s eyes.

 

“Yeah, that’s him,” Jane answered for her.

 

“This way, he is by the bar,” Thor said.

 

He wove a path through the room and Darcy and Jane—who could practically fit side by side in the space he cleared in his wake—followed close behind until they reached Johnny at the bar with Steve and Bucky. 

 

“There you are,” Bucky said. He grinned and pulled Darcy out of Johnny’s reach to press a kiss to her cheek.

 

“There you go again, stirring up the locals,” Darcy said. “They’ve only just got their heads wrapped around me dating Johnny.”

 

“And me dating a man,” Steve added in a softer tone. 

 

Darcy backed up to Johnny’s chest, leaning against him for support and taking a long swig from his beer bottle that was sweating in the warm hall. 

 

“Good end of festival?” Johnny asked into her ear.

 

She nodded. “Lots of orders to fill. And lots of people coming up to the house before the week is up.” She hadn’t been doing many readings for the past couple weeks, and she could feel a wave of business coming on between the tourists in for the festival and the locals who had been biding their time. It was good, nest money for the winter when The Lab slowed down to online orders.

 

A little trumpet blared on stage and Darcy flinched as the sound pierced her ears. Johnny’s fingers appeared under her hair against the back of her neck and she sighed.

 

“Headache?” he asked, lips close to her ear so she could hear over the music that was reaching a wild raucous party level on the stage. Darcy could see Sue on the floor with her kids, spinning one with each hand, Reed standing to the side grinning at his family.

 

“Storm coming,” she said nodding. “The pressure’s got me all out of whack.”

 

“We don’t have to stay long,” he said. “And it’ll be your turn for a massage when we get back to the house.” She smiled at that and her shoulders eased as Johnny carried on in digging the tension out her neck.

 

“We’ll be taking a break up here for the moment,” said the shaggy haired guitar player on the stage. “But our Molly should be able to keep you entertained and keep those feet flying on the dance floor.”

 

A waifish blonde young woman—who had come to The Lab and bought Jane’s line of Earl Grey bath products—stepped up to the front of the stage, red violin perched on her shoulder and bow poised to play. She struck high and quick, bright notes filling the hall over the low sound of conversation, and Reed took to the floor in what he probably thought was a good approximation of a jig. (Steve and Bucky turned away from the sight with embarrassed expressions on their faces and Johnny hid his grimace behind the beer bottle.)

 

Darcy’s head panged, a sharp and sudden squeezing in what felt like her brain, and the windows of the hall darkened suddenly. She looked at the nearest one and the sky outside looked nearly black, setting sun blotted out by the storm clouds rolling in. A note of music soured from on the stage.

 

“I hope the people on boats have somewhere to go,” Darcy said.

 

“Hmm?” Johnny looked down at her from watching the stage, eyes blinking.

 

“Darcy,” Jane whispered but her voice was clear. “Darcy, something is…”

 

Something was wrong. The air in the hall was heavy, not with salt water and locals, but the smell of sweet smoke like a cake burning. The sound of the violin wobbled and swooned in Darcy’s ear and she pressed her cheek against Johnny’s chest trying to sort out the noise. 

 

“Feels sleepy in here?” Johnny murmured. 

 

“Magic,” Darcy said and then reached over to pinch at the inside of his elbow sharply.

 

Jane swatted at a listing Thor.

 

“Where are Bucky and Steve?” Darcy asked.

 

“They went up to…they’re up closer by the stage,” Johnny said pointing. The light in the hall yellowed and then turned crisp and orangey, the color outside of the windows was bloody. “What’s going on?”

 

The woman on stage fiddled with urgent, swooping gestures, but her eyes were blank and the music she created was a dark moaning sound, like a wild animal.

 

“Is he here?” Jane's fingers clutched at Darcy’s hand and she spun in place, pushing around Thor’s body. “Darcy, is he here?”

 

Darcy stared at the back of a tall man with the same dark shade of hair as Loki. Her breath was caught in her chest, trapped there for a long minute until the man turned to her, expression flat. 

 

“He is not here, Jane,” Thor said softly, and a string on the violin broke with a wicked scream but the woman kept playing.

 

Darcy stepped up to a familiar woman—Gretchen who worked at the coffee shop—and waved her hand in front of her face, but there was no response.

 

“Get the boys,” Darcy said to Johnny. “We need to get outside.”

 

“The town-” he started.

 

“I don’t think this is about the town,” Darcy said and her voice cracked.

 

Johnny’s eyes flashed and his hand reached out to squeeze softly at her arm as he pushed through the crowd.

 

“I’ll help him,” Thor said to Darcy. “Get Jane outside.”

 

Darcy pushed Jane ahead of herself weaving through immobile neighbors and tourists, stiff bodies pushing back as they squeeze past. Darcy tried to convince herself that she was imagining the glares the hypnotized audience gave her until they had almost reached the door and a man leaned down to snarl with bared teeth directly into her face.

 

“Thor!”Jane shouted back behind them. “He can’t hear me.”

 

There was an accordion playing now, something familiar like a tune Natasha had hummed to her at bedtime, and entirely unconnected to song of the fiddler and the wilting trumpeter that had joined  in the fray. 

 

“He can get out,” Darcy said, less worried about Thor and Johnny with all of their bulk than she was for herself and Jane against the increasingly ferocious looking crowd around them. She took a glancing elbow to her side (one she answered happily and less lightly) before Jane seemed to realized the situation and was shoving through the last ring of people around them and breaking out of the front doors, dragging Darcy along by the wrist.

 

The sky above them was twisting and black, screaming and rushing with hundreds of wings crashing together. 

 

“Crows,” Jane breathed.

 

Darcy’s back bumped into the opening hall doors as Thor and Johnny came running out, Johnny’s nieces in their arms, with Sue, Reed, Bucky, and Steve standing in the open doors behind them. All their faces but Johnny’s pointed up at the sky.

 

“This is him?” Johnny asked.

 

“Loki,” Jane whimpered.

 

“Thanos,” Darcy said, turning back and watching the cloud of crowds spiral in the sky over head, down black feathers raining down to the street.

 

“What the hell?” Reed muttered from behind them. 

 

Johnny shifted Cara in his arms and pointed ahead of them. “Darce, the docks.”

 

Jane was walking down the steps with jerky, clunking motions. The water was red from the streaks of sunset bleeding through the black storm clouds on the horizon. Tourists stood and pointed up at the spiraling birds as they swooped down nearly to skimming the ground. Jane flinched back onto the steps and Thor passed a sniffling Olivia over to Sue so he could stand as a shield on the ground.

 

“I feel like you guys have been keeping something from us,” Steve said under his breath.

 

“We need to get back to the house,” Jane said and then crouched as another wave of birds, cawed in a sharp chorus and dove for their heads.

 

“I never really liked Hitchcock,” Bucky said. 

 

“We’ll never get the girls through this,” Sue said, softer and to Johnny.

 

“Don’t take them back inside,” Darcy told her. She trusted the birds over hypnotized strangers waiting behind the doors. Even now she felt like she could feel the air shifting from inside the hall, bodies moving restlessly. She didn’t want to wait for the crowd to follow them. She looked up with the others and then back down to the ground, searching for some kind of shelter they could use to escape the scene.

 

“The tiki torches,” Darcy said, pointing down the steps to the citronella staffs lighting the walkway up to the hall. “If we carried them-”

 

Thor nodded from steps below and rushed ahead as the crows swooped over the docks before circling in the air to turn back to the hall. Jane yelped as the swarm reached Thor before rearing back like a black wall, screeching and rising in the air away from the flash of the torch.

 

“Go,” Johnny said, hand at the base of Darcy’s back as the group of them ran down the stairs, grabbing up the torches in pairs. “My car is around the block.”

 

“We’re just up ahead,” Steve said. 

 

“Bring them up to the house,” Johnny said to him, passing his niece over into her dad’s arms.

 

“Johnny I don’t under-” Reed started.

 

“We’ll explain,” Darcy said. “We’ll explain up at the house.”

 

Sue and Reed grabbed their girls as Steve and Bucky braced themselves in front of them, torches held aloft. Johnny grabbed at Darcy’s hand and they met Thor and Jane at the corner. Darcy turned at the sound of a wild shout, a nearly animal roar from behind them. 

 

The doors of the hall were swinging open and the audience was rushing out, another wave of irritated motion like a mirror to the squirming black above them. 

 

“Darcy!” Johnny shouted over the screams from the scene in front of them. His hand swiped at hers but she pulled away.

 

“What are they doing?” she asked, voice drowned out.

 

Jane appeared at her side, shoulder brushing against hers as a long dark mass of bodies pushed and shoved their way down the hall stairwell and across the empty road over to the docks. The birds paid none of them any mind, only followed the shape and direction of crowd to the edge of the water. Johnny’s heat was at her back, Thor’s bulk a shield behind them all, and together they held their breath as the crowd from inside the hall and the swarm of birds hovered at the water's edge.

 

As one, they all screamed and rushed towards the water.

 

_

 

Johnny parked at the gate’s edge. Darcy blinked and saw again the strange vision of person after person, crow after crow, diving into the water just at the edge of the dock. The crowd had dispersed along the frame of the wooden walkway it was too crowded, to many bodies clustered together, wrestling and treading water. She wasn’t sure what happened to the birds.

 

“What do we say?” Jane whispered from the back seat. “Do we…do we tell them?”

 

The others were clustered together on the front steps under the porch light. Sue rocked Olivia back and forth in her arms, bouncing slightly in step. Darcy wondered if they had watched the same scene. Johnny and Thor were silent in the car faces turned to Jane. 

 

“That wasn’t Loki,” Darcy said. “Wherever he is, he didn’t do that. We can tell them about Thanos.”

 

“Let me talk to Sue and Reed,” Johnny said. “I have more to cover with them and Reed will… have a lot of questions.”

 

Questions about her and Jane, Darcy guessed. She stared into her lap until Johnny’s hand joined hers.

 

“Do  _ you _ want to talk to Reed?” Johnny asked, voice teasing.

 

A smile wavered on her face without her permission. “They can stay the night. In Natasha’s room.”

 

“Is she…?” he trailed off.

 

“She’s around. Feeling better as far as I can tell.” If anything, Natasha would be happy to have two little girls sleeping in her room to watch over.

 

When they left the car and headed up to the house, Darcy could read Bucky’s expression from halfway across the yard. Narrowed eyes and lines around his mouth, a pulse ticking in his jaw from clenching his teeth. He felt lied to. And that was mostly true, so it was time to cough up some truth. But how much?

 

“I called the police and the hospital,” Sue said. “Should we go back? Help people out of the water?”

 

“What was going on in there? Why was I…why couldn’t we…” Reed couldn’t find the words to explain his own hypnotism.

 

“I’ll make tea,” Jane said quietly.

 

Bucky stood to block her way. “Hold  _ on _ .”

 

“Buck.” Steve was up against his back, voice soothing.

 

“Come inside with us,” Darcy said and Thor helped her urge them closer to the door by the sheer force of not giving them anywhere else to go. 

 

“Get a fire going in the library and meet us in the kitchen,” Jane told Thor as Darcy unlocked the front door.

 

“What the  _ hell _ is going on?” Bucky hissed in her ear as she dragged him down the hall to the kitchen. “Is Loki back? Why didn’t you tell us?”

 

“It’s not Loki,” Darcy said, clear enough for Steve to hear as he followed behind them. “Thanos. That was…it had to be Thanos.”

 

“He’s here?” Steve asked.

 

Jane was at the cupboards, pulling boxes of tea blends down from the shelves as Steve filled the kettle. Darcy went to grab mugs and Bucky stood stubbornly at the center of the room, arms crossed, still glaring at her back.

 

“I don’t think he has to be,” she said. Her fingers fumbled around the handles of mugs and Bucky was there in a second, helping her carry them back to the counter before she dropped any on the floor. 

 

“What was the point?” Bucky asked. “What was the point of…of-what the hell did he even do?”

 

“He put the hall in a trance,” Jane said. “He projected it through the fiddler, the music, but the influence was all over the hall.”

 

“But why?”

 

“Because he can,” Darcy snapped. “He did it to show that he can.”

 

“Can you do that?” Steve asked.

 

Darcy and Jane glanced at each other and she knew that Jane felt that same sharp pang at the nervous tone in Steve’s voice.

 

“I don’t know,” Darcy said.

 

“We would never try,” Jane said, more firmly.

 

“What does he want?” Bucky asked. “Loki wanted  _ something _ . The deeds. But Thanos…”

 

“Natasha,” Jane said, scooping herbs into a ceramic pot.

 

Steve and Bucky both looked up and Darcy resisted the urge to snort. Why was it everyone always looked up when they mentioned their ghost aunt? It wasn’t like Natasha was likely to hover over everyone’s heads all the time.

 

“Is that even an option?” Steve asked.

 

“Not for us,” Darcy said.

 

“Thanos seems to think so,” Jane said, more diplomatic. “I don’t know if he’s trying to draw her out by terrorizing us? Or if there’s something he thinks we can do.”

 

“Which we won’t do,” Darcy said, staring at Jane.

 

Jane glanced up and there was a flicker of something, some hypothetical Jane’s scientific brain would consider that Darcy couldn’t bear to.

 

“No, we won’t,” Jane said, meeting her eyes.

  
  


August 4 th , 2017

 

_ It was only a warning, my pet. You will surrender _ .

 

Darcy sat up with a gasp. Johnny, who must have been twisted around her side, rolled over with an irritated grunt and smashed his face against the pillow he had claimed from her pile. The sky outside was just starting to turn pink with dawn and her heart was hammering in her chest. There was something oily at the back of her mouth that she couldn’t swallow away, and a deep ache in her head that had hung around for days now.

 

She crawled over Johnny out of the bed, smiling as his hand came up to cup the back of her thigh, handsy and affectionate even in sleep. She grabbed a pair of sleep shorts to put on under her t-shirt and one of Johnny’s hoodies thrown over the back of a chair and padded down the stairs to make coffee. They would need extra with all the extra bodies in the house. Bucky and Steve were curled up together on a couch somewhere and Reed and Sue were still around, probably as full of questions as they had been the night before. 

 

Darcy had already started running the list of ingredients for pancakes through her head—a treat for the little girls to make up for the terror of the previous night—when she found Natasha in the kitchen.

 

_ Someone’s coming _ . 

 

Darcy’s toes skidded on the floor boards at the sight of her aunt, crisp and clear, alone in the kitchen. Ice ran through her veins at the warning. She opened her mouth to ask for advice. What could she do  _ now _ against  _ Thanos _ when the house was asleep? Before coffee and breakfast?

 

_ No, not him,  _ Natasha soothed, and Darcy’s heart pounded at the safety that wrapped around her like a blanket with this return of  _ her _ Natasha.  _ It’s the idiot. Go answer the door, I’ll get Jane. _

 

Maybe her brain was just too slow before coffee because it wasn’t until she was reaching the door, swinging it open to reveal the blue uniform that she realized which idiot Natasha was referring to.

 

“Sitwell,” Darcy said dully. Couldn’t she just…go  _ back _ to bed?

 

“Miss Romanova,” Jasper Sitwell said, looking down at her bare legs peeking out from under Johnny’s hoodie.

 

“It’s very early,” Darcy said, trying to clip her words with that same irritated tone Natasha had always used when dealing with the man.

 

“I’ve just left the hospital,” Sitwell said, and this time he didn’t bother with any attempt at charm. He just stared at her legs and then up at her face, looking disgusted. “I was gathering statements from-”

 

“From everyone at Odd Fellow’s Hall,” Darcy finished, adding, “Are they alright?”

 

“You’re aware of the incident?” Sitwell asked, sounding not at all surprised to hear it.

 

“I was leaving with the others when everyone rushed out of the building,” Darcy said. “Do you know what happened?”

 

Sitwell rolled his eyes. “Oh, I have a few guesses,” he said and Darcy’s palms itched, seeing the next blow against her and Jane coming from a mile away. But not the direction they’d expected. “Why was it you were leaving early? Can’t have been there long.”

 

“No,” Darcy said slowly. “But everyone was acting so strangely. We got uncomfortable.”

 

Sitwell scoffed and opened his mouth to speak but was, blessedly, interrupted.

 

“Darcy?” A sleep addled Steve stumbled into the doorway, shrinking in his t-shirt and boxers from the cold breeze flooding in from the open door. “Wassgoin’ on?”

 

Sitwell blinked once at Steve before sneering. “So much for Storm, eh?”

 

“What about me?” Johnny asked from the stairs, feet landing heavily as he made his way down to Darcy’s side, a parade following behind him made up of all the others.

 

Sitwell took a step back from the door the sight of the crowd. And Darcy couldn’t really blame him. She couldn’t think of a single time the house had ever been so full of people. Of guests or friends or…family. Whatever it was she seemed to be surrounded by at this moment. She wondered if even Natasha could have named a time.

 

“It’s the ass crack of dawn, Sitwell. What the hell do you want?” Reed snapped, dark circles under his eyes and his arm around his wife.

 

Darcy and Johnny barely glanced at each other but it was enough. Who knew they could be so grateful for Reed’s lack of tact?

 

Sitwell looked cowed for half a moment, probably thrown off course from terrorizing the local crazies (her and Jane) by the sight of actual upstanding citizens. But he squared his shoulders and took an uninvited step inside the house.

 

“I’m going to need your statements regarding the events last night.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to keep true to my two week writing schedule. I have a lot of work related knitting to get done (sounds like a joke, but isn't!) and that will cut into my writing time but I'll keep my fingers crossed!
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your feedback, it makes me want to keep going steady and see this story to a beautiful finish! <3<3<3 Leave me some sugar!


	15. 14. Dark Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sneaks back in* Hi guys!!! I really missed you. This chapter took me a really long time to write to the point that there were scenes I forgot about when I went back and looked things over. Bless Janet Snakehole for being beta ready when I showed up a month late. Bless you for coming back after the wait! I hope you enjoy! <3<3<3
> 
> (I'll be responding to previous comments shortly but I just wanted to get this out to you first.)

August 5 th 2017

 

Fingertips brushed at her shoulders as she walked down the street. There were flowers everywhere and their fragrance was as heavy as silk over her cheeks. Jane was…there! Just down the alley, out on the sea and the waves with Thor. They waved. She waved back, and Caleb Carver stopped and knelt at her feet. There was a kiss at her ankle, wide brown eyes gazing up at her, and then he rose and left.

 

All the words of the people in town were sweet, welcoming, grateful. All their faces were smiles, all their touches were gentle.

 

She felt warm and soft. Like she was floating.

 

There was someone missing.

 

_No._ _No, this is perfect. This is what you deserve_.

 

There was nothing missing.

 

_

 

At least her dreams had been nice, Darcy thought and ducked her head as a man spat as she passed him at the corner. The wet glob narrowly missed her ankle and she picked up her pace, trying to make herself relax, hold her chin up, stare them all down. She could feel their eyes pressing into her back, all the people who had jumped from the docks that night. It was Saturday and it felt like the whole island was downtown. Staring out of windows, glaring at her from behind the coffee counter, crossing the street to avoid walking too closely to her.

 

Sitwell hadn’t made a secret of the fact that the first people he spoke to regarding the ‘incident’ were Darcy and Jane. He had probably been less forthright with the fact that there was nothing to accuse them of outright, other than escaping the same strange hypnotism as everyone else in the hall. 

 

The door to the shop opened too fast, banging against the wall before swinging noisily shut behind her. Bucky stood with Jane behind the counter, eyebrows raised sympathetically.

 

“I woulda got you coffee,” he said. 

 

“She only went to prove a point,” Jane muttered, crossing her arms and turning her back to Darcy.

 

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Darcy said. She passed Jane’s coffee to Bucky instead and listened to the affronted squeak with only a little bit of pleasure. Bucky snorted and passed the coffee over to Jane.

 

“I arm-wrestled Johnny so I could be the one to come by,” Bucky said, smiling at her.

 

“Liar,” Darcy said, smiling back as some of the tension from outside the shop faded from her shoulders. “Johnny’s not stupid enough to arm wrestle you.”

 

Bucky’s laugh was a bark as Jane sidled up to Darcy and settled an apologetic chin on her shoulder. Darcy leaned into the touch.

 

“He’s dealing with a fussy account over the phone because  _ thankfully _ he’s the only one who has to that kind of stuff still. But we wanted you both to know that we’re almost ready to blow the globes. Could be tonight if you want.”

 

“Full moon is on Monday,” Jane murmured at Darcy’s ear. “Should we wait?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Darcy said. She didn’t know if they had time for waiting.

  
  


July 8 th 2013

 

It was sticky out. Hotter than usual for the island with the sun burning up the sea into a damp haze in the air. Natasha was stretched out on the wicker chaise lounge, cheeks turned pink again with the heat.

 

“There you are,” Darcy said, dragging a chair to sit by her aunt.

 

“Still breathing,” Natasha teased weakly.

 

Darcy wrestled with the wild animal in her chest begging to kick and tear and bite at those defeated words. “Amazing,” she said instead, “Considering it’s hard to catch a breath in this heat.”

 

“I like it,” Natasha mused.

 

She was always cold lately. Even now she had a little knitted blanket thrown over her legs. Darcy, meanwhile, was sweating in her sundress. But Natasha seemed to have shrunk in the past year, vanishing away into the delicate old woman she ought to have looked like at least a decade ago. 

 

“Will you help me with a spell for the Anders family?” Darcy asked. “The restaurant burned down and-”

 

“Little ved’ma,” Natasha stopped her with a small, steely smile. “You and I both know you can manage a fortune charm well enough on your own.”

 

Darcy turned away, folding her sticky arms over her chest and glaring out at the sea. 

 

“It’s time for me, Darcy.” 

 

A thin, cold, hand landed on Darcy’s lap and no amount of stubborn denial could stop Darcy from taking it up in her warmer grip and holding on tight.

 

“Jane will be back next week,” Darcy said.

 

“That’s good,” Natasha said, voice turning dreamy and slow. She’d be napping again soon. “You’ll need her when…”

 

“It’s just a visit,” Darcy reminded Natasha who just blinked lazily, pale red lashes fluttering over the blue circles under her eyes. Jane was just getting ready to set up a shop in Connecticut selling her concoctions. 

 

“She’ll stay,” Natasha said, glancing at Darcy out of the corner of her eyes. “You’ll need her…when he comes. He’s coming. Darcy…he’s coming…after I’m gone.”

 

Darcy felt the warning like a punch to the gut. The old wound of Johnny Storm she thought her aunt had let close years ago.

 

“Don’t say that,” Darcy said, voice breathless with surprise. “Don’t say that Nat. Johnny’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

 

Natasha’s brow furrowed. “He is. But…you’ll need Jane.” Her eyes blinked shut and then stayed closed.

 

Darcy released a slow breath, heart pounding and then Natasha whispered it again. 

 

“He’ll come for you after I’m gone.”

  
  


August 5 th 2017

 

The garage door was up at the studio, letting the nearly-full moon’s glow fall in. The lights outside and overhead were turned off, but there were small lamps on around the work areas so no one was left fumbling in the dark with burning hot glass at hand.

 

The first half dozen globes had been messes, too small or crooked or melting right off the pipes and cracking across the floor. The guys had warned them it would be like this, that it would take a few practice rounds before they had their movements down as a unit, so Darcy and Jane had left magic aside for a moment to focus on learning the pattern and rhythm of heat and breath and the smooth, intuitive rolling of the pipe to keep the glass balanced at the end of the pipe. Once the process was less of a fumbling comedy routine and more of a steady ritual, and they’d each helped make three full and rounded globes in what Johnny promised was going to be a nice clear crystal blue after it cooled down, it was time for the real work to start. 

 

Darcy leaned back, shoulders brushing against Johnny’s chest, as Ben took the pipe to the glory hole to flash head over the little bulb of glass she’d just breathed a spark of magic, and air, into. Johnny’s forehead rested briefly at the back of her head. A feeling that wasn’t quite a thrill—softer and gentler and warmer—rolled down her spine. As if he had felt it too, Johnny ruffled her hair with a kiss.

 

Ben returned with the pipe and Johnny’s hands took it from him, rolling along the bar of the bench as Darcy set her lips to the mouth and released a breath full of that feeling. Safety, warmth, a bright…love. She inhaled through her nose, body shifting from one end of the bench to the other as Johnny spun the pipe, and exhaled until the globe was thin and round, glowing softly.

 

Ben took the pipe away again to finish off the end and Darcy leaned back into Johnny, closing her eyes and charging herself up for the next round.

  
  


August 6 th 2017

 

Johnny found her in the garden, huddled up under a blanket on the wicker chaise, and he sat down in front of her with a tired ‘oof’ and draped himself over her and the blanket.

 

“How’d it go?” she asked, digging her thumbs into his shoulders and shifting under the weight of him to get comfortable.

 

“Fine,” he said, too heavily for that to be the end of it. “You should have come.”

 

Considering a little girl had burst into horrified tears upon seeing her and Jane on the sidewalk this morning, Darcy was pretty sure it was for the best that she didn’t come out to hang the globes around the island with the rest of the population. It may have been her project, but the island didn’t know that, and Johnny didn’t need his reputation getting mussed by her anymore than it probably already was. 

 

“You didn’t need us for that part,” she said.

 

He ‘hmphed’ and nestled back tighter against her. “I just don’t think you should have to hide out from the town. They need to get over this whole-”

 

“They should,” Darcy agreed. “But they probably won’t. It will come and go but Jane and I will always be available as scapegoats. At least this time they’re partly right. We are responsible-”

 

“Darce,” Johnny groaned and tried to twist to face her. 

 

She wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled him back down. “It’s Thanos at fault, I know that. But it’s my family that drew his gaze. But the island will never understand how that works. It’s too…”

 

“Magical,” Johnny said.

 

Darcy hummed. It wasn’t the word she was thinking of but it worked. The Romanova women stretched the imaginations of the island at the best of times. In a case like this…

 

“Do you think he’ll come here?” Johnny asked.

 

“I don’t think he can,” Darcy said, nearly whispering. She was half afraid to say it aloud, that it might catch to the wind and carry back to wherever Thanos was lurking against shadows like an old stain. “But I don’t want to count on it.”

 

Johnny’s hands found her knees under the blanket and squeezed. “Let’s go inside. My pixie needs rest after this week. Time to charge her up in the bath?”

 

Darcy grinned up at Johnny and the tired tightness in his eyes vanished, replaced with intent. 

 

“Definitely,” she said. “I have plans for you.”

  
  
  


August 7 th 2017

 

Her feet dragged through the wildflowers, long grasses and soft leaves and heavy scented petals twining around her ankles and making every step a warm, lazy effort. There was a crowd in the distance behind her and she could hear their bells and cheers and praises, cheering for her. And ahead…at the other side of the field was…

 

Something was missing.

 

Yes, that’s what was at the other side of the field. That missing thing. The pang at the pit of her chest. The music in her ears. She just needed to keep walking and then she would get to it and everything would be…back together again.

 

Her feet hurt. They were tired. She’d been walking…a long time? But the field wasn’t so big. 

 

No, she’d been walking before the field too.

 

It was very cold and the air was wet.

 

No, it was sunny out. The grass in the field was wet and it wrapped around her legs and tried to hold her close, and the ground was hard and uneven and that’s why her feet hurt.

 

Why was she barefoot?

 

The sky was nearly yellow with sunlight but the full moon was out and the stars glinted blue and Darcy felt dizzy when she looked up.

 

Her family—no, her family was Jane—the audience…no, the island, her friends, were farther back now. Had she traveled this far already? Her feet cramped with every step and her skin was covered with goosebumps and the skirt of her night gown stuck wetly to her legs.

 

Why was she in her night gown?

 

I should wake up, she thought.

 

_ You’re almost there _ . _ Everything will be settled once we’re together. A little further _ .

 

A little further, just to see, she thought. To remember what it was, that gap of memory, the disorientation of missing something as if she kept driving straight past her house in the dark at night.

 

Her chest burned with cold and her feet felt stiff, plodding in the muck below.

 

And then all at once her feet slipped out from underneath her and brackish water slipped between her lips. The sky was dark and the moon was overhead and then it was dancing and twisting behind churning water as Darcy sank. Salt water burned at her eyes and she sealed them shut against and held still, surrounded by cold sea with seaweed fingers tethered around her ankles. She blinked up and the moon had grown smaller, slithering like a white snake on the surface of the water several feet above. 

 

_ You’re drowning, stupid _ , said Jane’s voice in her head.

 

Those had never been her dreams, she realized. They had been nighttime traps set by Thanos.

 

Her heart kicked her in chest and Darcy thrashed in the water, legs spiraling and seaweed looping and tangling until her ankles felt knotted together. She couldn’t tell if she was rising or falling, but her lungs stung and her head pounded and she could not longer see the moon. There was something dark passing in front of her eyes and she squirmed in the cold grip of the sea. 

 

Something tangled through her hair and she bucked, swinging her arms in sluggish sweeps over her head. Warm bands wrapped around her wrists and for a moment she tugged and wrestled against them, but that would leave her sinking. She winced up into the water and saw white arms reaching down for her. 

 

Johnny or Thor or Jane or all of them! Hell, it could have been Sitwell and this point and she would have been grateful. She choked on air as she broke water and coughed up salty water. Her hair was over her eyes in streaks and it wasn’t until she was clinging to the side of a meek little boat that she saw her rescuer.

 

Loki.

 

“Lemme go!” She rasped and began to thrash again, trying to push herself off the boat, scratching at his arms and hands where he held. Water sloshed and sprayed them both in the face, Loki wincing away and nearly dropping her back into the water like an uncooperative fish.

 

“You’re going to tip us over!” He growled, and she wasn’t sure if he was shaking her or just couldn’t hold her still.

 

“Let me go! Help! Hel-“

 

“I’m trying to save you, you idiot!” Loki snapped.

 

It was more surprise than cooperation that had Darcy drooping still, water up to her chin again, but Loki took it all the same, dragging her out of the water by her armpits and draping her ungracefully half into the boat and practically upside down. 

 

She hesitated for a moment, knees still in the sea, and then scrambled the rest of the way in as Loki sat back and steadied them on the water. He threw a scratchy blanket at her face before she could get her bearings. She glanced down, realized she was in her nightgown—had she sleep-walked?—and wrapped it around herself quickly, pushing her hair away from her face. 

 

Loki was at the other end of the boat, yanking on a chain for the motor with an irritated snarl on his lips.

 

“Where are you taking me?” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if he could hear her over the rattling of the resistant motor, the salt water had scratched at her throat.

 

“Back to island, where do you think?” Loki snapped with a quick glance at her. The motor flared to life with a roar.

 

“Not to Thanos?”

 

Loki’s lips pursed as he stared at her, and then over her shoulder at the dark. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the small collection of lights from the island. 

 

“The hedgewitch’s attempted murder shook a few things loose from my mind,” Loki said quietly, his voice blending with the hum and growl of the boat. “Thanos being one of them. He thinks I’m dead for now. I’m hoping to keep it that way.”

 

There was a warning in his tone. 

 

“He can’t…find you?” The way he had found her. Waking, asleep, it didn’t seem to matter.

 

“Not if I’m careful,” Loki said with a huff, and it was a weary sound.

 

Darcy wrapped the blanket tighter around herself and folded down to rest her head on her knees. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you were out here. Why you’d bother to…” 

 

Loki had saved her life. She wrinkled her nose against her cold lap.

 

“Maybe I just felt like playing a different part tonight,” he said.

 

She rolled her head to look at him. She knew he was adopted but…he reminded her of Thor suddenly. Swallowed in a sweater, hair growing out and wet with sea, that intent gaze on the horizon that Thor often had when Jane wasn’t close by. 

 

“Thanos has…trouble with water. His hold wouldn’t have lasted much longer on you, not that it’d have mattered. But it’s a safe place for me to be at the moment.”

 

“So he can’t see us now?” she asked.

 

“I fucking hope not,” Loki muttered.

 

“Your brother…Jane, can I tell them?” Loki wasn’t dead.  _ Loki was alive _ . Jane had pushed him off a cliff and that was…well it was a serious offense but Loki had broken into their home and threatened them so they were probably going to call it even, right? Because he wasn’t  _ dead _ .

 

“Sit up, look at me,” he said.

 

Darcy almost stuck her tongue out at him. But she rolled her shivering shoulders back and sat up, tugging at the edges of the blanket to keep the wind off her frozen skin and wet dress. Loki leaned forward and his eyes glanced off the moonlight, glowing faintly green. There was a soft riffling feeling against her forehead and Darcy brushed her hand against the spot.

 

“Stay out of there,” she snapped but she was cold and tired and felt all used up and paper thin.

 

Loki was in and out of her thoughts in a few gentle sweeps. 

 

“He lost his hold on you in when you nearly drowned,” Loki said, drawing back. Darcy blinked and he raised one eyebrow. “Not unlike he did with me. With a bit of help from you  _ reaming _ my brain out on that cliff.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Darcy said and his lips twitched. The island was creeping up to them and Darcy glanced over her shoulder. He was taking her back to the docks.

 

“You can tell them,” he said as she watched the island grow brighter, larger in their approach. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so relieved to see island’s silhouette before. He added, “Just do it safely. I’d rather not be back on his radar again.”

 

“Why were you out here?”

 

“I’ve been undoing some traps I set,” Loki said, voice a little smug.

 

“Some?” Darcy asked.

 

There was a pause. “Your little protection charms have undone others.”

 

She grinned at the island and heard his irritated huff behind her. “Well thank you for your convenient timing.”

 

The pause was longer this time. “You’re welcome.”

 

Not that it really seemed convenient. But she was hardly about to accuse Loki of being a prickly but effective guardian. She doubted he’d see the need of coming to their rescue more than once. This was about debts paid.

 

“He is old,” Loki said. “And yes, physically he is weak. But don’t underestimate him.”

 

She twisted back to face him. “How could I, after everything that’s happened?” She couldn’t  _ see _ his face clearly but she could feel his stare and it made her want to squirm.

 

“Your family has a legacy,” he said.

 

“Oh, not this again!” Darcy wiped wet hair away from her face with a huff and rolled her eyes.

 

“He’ll find someone else to do his legwork for him” Loki continued. “Just to distract you from dealing with the problem of him directly.”

 

“He’s powerful,” Darcy started.

 

“So are you! So is the other one,” Loki said.

 

“ _ Jane _ . Her name is  _ Jane _ . Is it her you have the issue with or that she’s dating Thor?”

 

“I have an issue with being pushed off cliffs,” Loki snipped.

 

“Psh, you’re fine. Get over it,” she said.

 

There a sharp silence and then a soft snort from the other end of the boat. But Loki was someone who clearly liked to have the last word. 

 

“Quit pretending to be so harmless,” he said.

 

Darcy chewed at her lip, resisting the urge to fall to the bait. “What the hell does that mean?”

 

“This island, the role you’re playing. Little witches who grow herbs and read tarot cards and run a cute bath shop on main street,” Loki said. “Trying to  _ blend _ in. They fear you and they have good reason to. He should fear you too. Quit hiding.”

 

Darcy turned back to the island, swallowing the accusation he’d thrown at her and studying the way it sank heavy in her gut. The boat rumbled up to the docks, prow bumping softly against the ladder.

 

“Thanks for the assist,” Darcy said. 

 

“Keep the blanket, you have a long walk home,” Loki said and his face was curtained by dark hair hanging loose. “Tell Thor…Jane…”

 

“They’ll all be glad you’re not dead,” Darcy said, almost teasing. She caught a glimpse of a weary glare in her direction and then she pulled her stiff body up the ladder. Loki was pulling away before she’d made it up to the dock. 

 

The air was harder up above the water, running in off the sea to beat at the walls of the island. It became clear, quickly, that Darcy’s feet were badly beat up from her nighttime travels and the blanket wrapped around her shoulders wasn’t in much better shape. There was a tall clock at the end of the docks and she winced her way across rough wooden boards to read it.

 

2:22

 

For a moment, she closed her eyes and wished like she had when she was younger and the numbers lined up on the digital clocks at school.

 

_ I wish someone would take me home. _

 

But it was after two in the morning and the island was asleep.

 

Someone up at the house might be looking for her. If Johnny had realized she wasn’t in bed he might have looked through the house. Or he and Jane and the others could just have easily been sleeping under some sway of Thanos’s. She had no phone and her only allies in town were the Richards. It didn’t seem like a good time to go knocking on their door, soaked to the bone.

 

A light came on across the street at the front of the Inn and Tony and Pepper walked out of the bar door, locking it behind them. They turned, Pepper making a small high sound and Tony stepping in front of her and Darcy froze by the clock and hoped she might be invisible.

 

“Lewis?” Tony hissed, leaning forward slightly and squinting.

 

“Darcy?” Pepper asked, slower and more alarmed.

 

“Hi,” she said.

 

Their voices were quiet but carrying in the silence of the sleeping town.

 

“What the hell happened to you?” Tony asked.

 

“Umm…” she bit her lip, checked the road out of some strange force of habit, and started a mincing walk across the bruising gravel to them. Tony leaned away as if she might have been some kind of contagious but Pepper met her off the sidewalk, hands outstretched but uncertain. 

 

“Do you have a cell phone I could borrow to call up at the house?” Darcy asked.

 

They both blinked. Tony reached for his pocket just as Pepper stepped closer and wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders. “Of course,” she said. “But let us drive you home.”

 

She wondered if she should object but she  _ couldn’t _ and then Tony was running to get the car and Pepper was pulling off her lovely pink cashmere sweater and tugging it over Darcy’s head like a mother. The seats of the car were heated and Tony griped but waited as Darcy brushed seaweed and stones and muck off her feet and onto the street curb before she would fold her legs in and close the door.

 

Bucky answered the house phone, voice snarling.

 

“It’s me,” she said.

 

“Jesus, where are you? What happened? What the  _ hell,  _ Darce-”

 

“Darcy!?” Johnny had stolen the phone. “Where are you?”

 

“Tony and Pepper are driving me home,” she said.

 

She could hear him struggling in the quiet, could hear the others layering questions behind him. He was trying to decide if it would be faster to let Tony deliver her than if he met them halfway. 

 

“I was sleep walking,” she said, quieter, turning her head to avoid seeing Tony and Pepper’s expressions. “I’m okay.”

 

“I…okay,” he said. And then fast and and sharp, “Stay on the phone!”

 

“Alright,” she said. “Will you ask Jane to start a bath for me?” He echoed the request over the phone and the sounds of shuffling in the kitchen followed. “Is everyone up?” she asked.

 

“Hmm? Oh yeah. Sorta shouted the house down when I woke up and couldn’t find you anywhere. How close are you?” Bucky’s voice was rattling in the background and there was a rustling and then a brief growling sound from Johnny.

 

“Just turned onto Forest Way.”

 

“Where did you sleep walk to?” Johnny’s tone was gentle but she could hear the stress and struggle underneath the words, the tightness in his throat he was trying to swallow away, Bucky hassling at his back for answers.

 

Pepper twitched in the passenger seat in front of her and Darcy said, “The docks,” and left it at that.

 

“Was it Thanos?” Bucky said in the background.

 

“Yes,” she whispered and Johnny’s breath hitched over the phone. “I’m okay. Almost to the house.”

 

There was an abbreviated note and Johnny ‘hmm’d for a moment. “Okay. I’ll be at the gate.” They both paused and she could hear him sigh over the receiver. “Okay. Hang up.”

 

She pulled the phone off her ear and passed it back to Pepper, her chest suddenly hammering as the lights from the house peeked through the brush and trees on the road. She had an urge to jump out of the backseat and run the rest of the way up to the house, as if that might get her to Jane and Johnny and the boys faster.

 

“Is there…” Tony hesitated. “Is there anything we can help with?”

 

Pepper’s hand crossed the console to settle at Tony’s knee and they both glanced back in her direction. 

 

“If Sitwell is creating a problem-” Pepper started.

 

“No, nothing like that,” Darcy said. She bit her lip. “Thank you. I’ll reach out if…if we need to.”

 

Tony grunted and Pepper twisted to stare at Darcy with something that crossed sympathy with frustration but they were pulling up to the gate and there was a line of tall, broad-shouldered men waiting at the gate. 

 

“Oh that’s nice,” Pepper said lightly, after turning back around. Tony grimaced and stared at her, putting the car in park.

 

“Your sweater,” Darcy said, half out of the car.

 

“Keep it,” Pepper said with a wave.

 

It was probably ruined by the salt water anyway. Darcy was halfway to the gate, the car door shut behind her, and Johnny was halfway out of the gate, his eyes flying over every wet and mussed and dirtied inch of her, when she remembered to turn back and say thank you.

 

She had a brief view of Tony’s sardonic eyebrow raising, and Pepper’s face softening, and then Johnny’s arms were around her and she was lifted up. Her face immediately sought out the heat of his shoulder, cold nose tucked into his neck.

 

“Christ, you’re soaked.”

 

She opened her mouth to say that she’d almost drowned, that she’d been sinking in the sea and Loki had lifted her out, that  _ Johnny _ had been what was always missing from those sickly sweet and lulling dreams Thanos had sent her. But they were both shivering together now and it was probably better to make it inside, rinse the muck off her, and say it all at once for everyone.

 

Bright headlights pulled away from the house and Johnny carried Darcy through the gate, warm hands from the others brushing over her shoulders. They marched up to the house and Johnny took her straight upstairs to her room, rinsing the worst of the sea off in the sink before taking her into the bath with him, never letting her toes touch the floor.

 

_

 

Thor took the news of Loki’s living status, and departure from the island, really well. A tightness in forehead eased and a little corner of his mouth smiled, and the rest he shrugged away. Jane took it like a boulder landing in her stomach, and then suddenly evaporating. She was quiet, but the relief floated around her like sweet incense. 

 

Bucky and Steve took the explanation of the potential but  _ not _ murder, and all the secrets they’d kept in the wake, with a fair amount of exhausted irritation. They were still around though. The entire group had spent the rest of the night talking, and nearly dozing, by the fireplace. When morning came they moved the conversation out into the sunlight. Darcy was sure her cheeks were sunburnt, but the light felt just as good as the bath the night before had, or the heat of Johnny’s chest underneath her.

 

Of everyone, Johnny was the person she had trouble reading. When she asked what he was feeling, he answered, “Too much at once.” But he was here, steady and always within reach. Almost always wrapped around her. 

 

“I know you don’t like when I ask,” Darcy whispered, and Johnny stiffened at her back. “But are we still…are you still…”

 

His shoulders loosened and his chin fell to her shoulder, lips brushing along the curve of her neck. The touch sent a surprise trail of goosebumps down her spine. She’d thought her body was too tired from the night to feel any kind of thrill but then he kissed under her jaw and the goosebumps curled over her collarbone.

 

“We are still a team,” he whispered. “I’m still here.”

 

Something loosened and burned gently behind her ribs and she leaned back into the circle of his hold.

 

_

 

“It’s past moonrise,” Jane said after dinner. They both glanced out the kitchen window to where Thor and Johnny and Bucky and Steve were all dicking around at the fire pit, trying to one-up the others with log placement. “We could tell them to shoo for a few hours,” she suggested.

 

Darcy frowned and Johnny yelped from outside, snatching his hand back out of the flames as a shower of sparks spiraled up into the dusty sky. 

 

“We could let them stay,” Darcy said.

 

“We’ve never had others involved,” Jane said. But the words were speculative rather than a refusal. 

 

“We’re still vulnerable,” Darcy said shrugging and rinsing off the last of the plate, setting it in the drying rack for the night. “It’d be better to have someone watching the house while we work.”

 

Jane was leaning against the counter when Darcy turned. Her arms were crossed over her chest, a loose hair bun tilting off one side of her head matching the leaning smirk of her lips. 

 

“Johnny grounds me,” Darcy said, rolling her shoulders to resist rolling her eyes. “I feel stronger with him around.”

 

Jane grinned triumphantly and then let it fade. “I understand the feeling,” she said. It was better than ‘I told you so.’ “Alright, let’s get ready.”

 

By the time she and Jane made it out of their quick baths and into their white shifts, the campfire had become a roaring bonfire, almost as tall as Bucky. Johnny blinked at her as she approached and Thor’s gaze went soft on Jane.

 

“Hey, pixie,” he said.

 

Darcy bit her lip to fight her smile, thinking of the night the month before when he’d joined her in the grass after this same ceremony.

 

“Hey, burn mark,” she said, the smile blooming. “It’s a full moon. We’re going to work magic.”

 

Steve made an abbreviated, excited sound from the back of his throat and Bucky nudged him with a teasing grin. 

 

“You want us to head out?” Johnny asked. His voice was even but she could see the brief tightening around his eyes.

 

“Actually we’d like it if you all wanted to join us,” she said. 

 

“Yes,” Steve said immediately.

 

Johnny’s hand found hers and he squeezed as Thor answered, “We would be honored.”

 

They moved as a group into a square of moonlight peeking through the trees and falling on the grass. Jane had rewritten their small ceremony in the bath. She gave Johnny the candle, Thor the incense, Steve the cup of water, and Bucky the small potted succulent she usually held herself. She met Darcy in the center, surrounded by their odd new collected family, and joined hands. Darcy lifted their arms up into the air, wide and open, cool light and shadow sliding down their bare skin. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back to soak up more light, and took long even breaths until she and Jane matched, bodies nearly touching with every inhalation.

 

Her bones ached and she could still feel a chill in her lungs from the night before. Her bed was waiting for her, and the thought of Johnny there with her, his body wrapping itself around her back. 

 

But there was a little, soft well of warmth in her chest. The firm tower of Jane was at her front and a pool of heat at her back, Johnny focused on her every movement. Around them was Thor shifting from storm cloud to easy breeze, and Steve’s wave breaking and scrambling against the shore, and Bucky’s roots tangling deep into the earth below them.

 

Jane’s fingers squeezed gently at hers and Darcy opened her eyes to the moon overhead and began to chant. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're actually quite near to end of the story now. Just a few action packed chapters and an epilogue to go by my reckoning. I'm still knitting like a madwoman for christmas though so I'm fairly confident that we won't reach the end of this story before the year is up. But fingers crossed for not too long after that!
> 
> If you liked it, let me know! Your comments are a big motivator to get back to the keyboard when I'm feeling tapped out. I love you very muchly!!


	16. 15. Hearts on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up at the Lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick!!!
> 
> 1\. I love you guys so freaking outrageously muchAHHHHHHHHHHH!!  
> 2\. This chapter saved by best beta JanetSnakehole, all remaining mistakes are mine.  
> 3\. There is a major fire scene in this chapter, if you would like to avoid that scene please skim or skip between the * * s.

 

 

 

August 10 th 2017

 

“Is it bad that I find kitschy hex trinkets stuffed under our door sort of…endearing?” Jane asked. She pinched the odd tangle of feathers and mud and nettles in her fingers and frowned sympathetically at the cluster.

 

“It is bad,” Darcy said, shrugging. “But I know what you mean.”

 

It might have been less endearing if the hex… _ wads _ weren’t so apparently flat and devoid of any actual power. Scooping them up off the floor and tossing them into the waste bin was along the same lines as brushing a stray ant off your arm at a picnic. Annoying but harmless. 

 

“Loki would’ve made it scary at least,” Jane said.

 

In the wake of Loki’s relieving reappearance to the land of the living, Jane had taken up an odd habit (encouraged by Thor’s family fable-level storytelling) of praising the man who had terrorized them for the better part of the summer. Given that Loki had ended their acquaintance by saving her life, Darcy was willing to let it slide. But it was a bit weird.

 

“I think it’s very creative of the locals to try and fight us with magic,” Darcy said. She took the little hex from Jane and walked out of the shop to toss it in the garbage bin. 

 

“I dunno what’s so creative about googling,” Jane mumbled from inside.

 

“Give it a week and they’ll have lost interest in us or we’ll have, I dunno…dog shit on our windows or something,” Darcy said, coming back inside and flipping on all the shop lights.

 

“Wow,” Jane said, one eyebrow raised. “Now I’m really looking forward to it.”

 

In all honesty, the scene at the docks and the island’s suspicion as to Jane and Darcy’s part in it, was taking a small toll on their business. Tourist season was almost over and with everything that had happened over the summer, Darcy had barely taken half her usual number of clients at the house. Jane’s online sales were strong, but the shop was deadly quiet aside from a surprise contingent of islanders.

 

Darcy was going to bake Pepper Potts, Helen Cho, and Maria Hill the most exquisitely sweet gift baskets for Christmas this year.

  
  
  


August 12 th 2017

 

“You’re worrying about Jane,” Johnny said, nudging at her knee with his.

 

Darcy stalled licking at the dribble of blackberry gelato running down her finger. She couldn’t bear to waste it and yet she felt too full to really consider finishing the scoop in her hand. All she and Johnny had seemed to do in Boston since they’d gotten in the night before was walk and eat and talk to artists in the SoWa gallery district. They’d come to drop off some of Johnny’s work at Gallery BOM and catch up with a few of his friends in the area. She’d been stuffed since the breakfast of baked goods over twelve hours ago, but the neighborhood was packed with things to see and to taste and to hear and she was trying not to waste any chance to enjoy herself.

 

“A little that,” she admitted. “I know she’ll be fine with Thor and the boys.”

 

Johnny leaned into her side and they watched a noisy trio of women in high heels and large purses clack down the sidewalk in front of the bench they’d adopted.

 

“What else?” he asked.

 

She took another bite of her dessert and he mimicked her with an impatient and amused roll of his eyes.

 

“I’ve been thinking about who I would be in a place like this,” she said finally.

 

Johnny frowned, forehead knotting. 

 

“Like…would I be the weird fortune teller living in some loft attic who everyone stared at?” Darcy mused. She shifted in her seat, her back against Johnny’s chest and pointed a sugar sticky finger out to the square where there were pairs of tarot card readers busking with their customers at cafe tables. “Nobody seems to mind them.”

 

Johnny’s lips caught at the back of her head where he pressed a kiss. “You could have a little shop set up around the corner with a neon sign and bead curtains,” he suggested. “You’d be popular.”

 

“I dunno,” Darcy said, smiling. “I kind of think I’d like to be that girl with a street booth of little succulents.”

 

“I think you’d be a baker at Wholy Grain. Your scones are better,” he said. “Are you saying you want to move?”

 

“It’s not that,” she said and twisted again to face him. There was a little nervous twinge around his eyes and she reached up to smooth it away with her thumb. “I spent…all of college trying not to go back to Swan’s Island.”

 

“You moved back for Natasha,” he said as she took a big bite of gelato.

 

“Hmmm, kind of. Natasha was a good reason to go back. But I missed the island. I missed that house. I was constantly resisting the urge to be there again.”

 

“S’a good house,” Johnny said and Darcy thought about her dream from a day ago where Johnny had been moving his boxes in, fitting himself into the rooms with her family history. “And this neighborhood is expensive, anyway.”

 

“I like being here with you,” Darcy blurted and watched Johnny’s small smile stretch across his face until his dimple popped. “We’re just…a couple here.”

 

He sobered a little but it was with effort. “We’ll never be just another couple on the island,” he said and she nodded. “But I kind of like the idea that we’ll be the couple with this… _ story _ surrounding us. I know nobody really takes me seriously,” he said, a shadow passing over his face. “But…gimme three years and they’ll be ‘Oh we knew all along it was gonna be them together in the end.’”

 

Darcy blinked and Johnny bent to nip at the tip of her nose. She knew that Johnny was a little defensive when it came to the island’s opinions on their relationship. She had thought, perhaps vainly, that it had to do with him protecting her insecurities. 

 

“They do like to take credit for things,” she said, while her thoughts spun in a new direction. She took another bite of the gelato and slipped her free hand into his.

  
  


*Aug 15 th 2017

 

“You’re not paying attention again,” Jane snapped, pushing a jar of sleepytime body lotion into Darcy’s chest. 

 

“I am,” Darcy said, blinking and trying to remember what Jane had been saying. And then when that wouldn’t come, she tried to remember where her mind had been. But that wouldn’t come either.

 

“You are literally drifting off again, right in front of me,” Jane said and then added more quietly, “That’s my schtick.”

 

“Doesn’t today feel…off to you?” Darcy asked.

 

Jane blinked and frowned.  She glanced around the Lab, at the sun streaming in through the windows, everything bright and tidy across the shelves, a heavy bouquet of flowers sagging on the counter.

 

“No,” Jane said slowly, forehead wrinkling. “Is it…do you think you’re…you know?” she asked, waving a finger in the direction of Darcy’s head.

 

Was Thanos back?

 

“It’s not…” Darcy couldn’t really say for sure when she thought about it. Only that it wasn’t her head that felt foggy now, just everything outside of it. It was a slippery, distracted feeling. Something shifted at the corner of her eye and Darcy jumped in place to stare out the front door.

 

Grace Harper was marching down the sidewalk with her shoulders hunched and her hair swirling around her face. Was it windy out? Or had she just been looking into the shop?

 

“Should you head back to the house?” Jane asked, voice softening.

 

“No.” Darcy rolled her shoulders and shook her head. Her fingers wrapped around the jar of lotion a little tighter than necessary and she found a smile to reassure Jane. “No, I’m fine. I  _ am _ just out of it.”

 

“Probably that dreamy getaway weekend,” Jane said, rolling her eyes to hide the nervous edge of her own smile.

 

Darcy started to snark back and then bit her lip, hurrying over to the shelf to grab the rest of the order Jane had been lecturing her over. It had been a dreamy weekend. Johnny had been right that she would enjoy herself and it had been a huge relief to get off the island even for a little bit. 

 

She was about to turn away, head back into the work room and pack up the order when something warm oozed over her shoulders and then slid away.

 

“Jane.”

 

“Darcy.”

 

Their eyes met across the room. Jane was standing at the far corner, one hand pressing at the wall while she cradled a collection of bottles in her other arm.

 

“I feel it. What is this?” Jane asked.

 

Darcy put her own hand up, reaching over jars to the wall. Heat flashed up the bones of her hand, gripping at her wrist for moment before she tore herself away.

 

“We need to get-” she started.

 

“I smell-” Jane said.

 

There was a bright burst from the work room and a blast of the smell of charcoal and kerosene. 

 

“My test recipes,” Jane shouted, dropping the bottles in her arms to the floor and rushing for the back. 

 

The smoke was sudden and overwhelming. Darcy was only just pulling away from the wall when long, crackling vines of flame spread out of the doorway from the back room. They ran across the walls of the shop like sparking lightning strikes, all orange and yellow and blue, sucking up the oxygen in the room.

 

“Jane!” 

 

Darcy ran for the doorway as the air around her turned dry, making her gasp feel thin in her chest. Jane dashed through a sliver of the doorway before the flames covered the opening. By the time Darcy made it to the desk she could barely see Jane flickering through a dense wall of fire.

 

“Darcy!” Jane called her voice nearly drowned out by the roaring.

 

“Get out!” Darcy answered.

 

“The back door is blocked…I have your phone!”

 

“I’ll call 911,” Darcy screamed. “Call Johnny, or Thor! Call the boys!”

 

She thought she heard Jane repeat her name, something like a whimper, but she was pulling the shop phone off the desk and dialing. The front door was barricaded, orange licks of heat cracking and sparking over the floorboards, billowing up ash and smoke.

 

“911, what’s your-”

 

“Fire at the Lab on Main Street,” Darcy shouted over the line. Heat was building at her back as she spoke and she shuffled in the center of the room, covering her ear with one hand to try and drown out the thunder of the room around her. Her skin was scorched and clammy at the same time, sweat breaking out and shivers of fear running down her spine.

 

Through the inferno at the front door Darcy could see faces on the street, staring at the shop with wide eyes and phones pressed to their ears. She tried to take a breath but nothing seemed to gather in lungs but smoke and she choked out a cough. On the phone the voice at the other end sputtered and then cut off. The line went dead and Darcy tossed the hot plastic aside. A crowd was gathering outside, watching the fire in horror. With any luck the fire department was already on its way.

 

Darcy’s eyes were running, tears drying on her cheeks before they could travel far enough to make salt tracks. Her mouth tasted like cedar and sulfur. She was kneeling on the floor before she could realize she was falling and her shins and knees rang with shock. Her fingers tried to plant themselves the floor but everything was burning hot. She crawled over to a display, found a little clean air under the tablecloth, but all it did was make her cough. Her eyelids were sweating, drawing more tears out with the sting. She thought even her teeth might be sweating. 

 

Her body drooped to the floor and Darcy closed her eyes trying to find the glow of safe, clean blue light inside of herself. It bubbled in her chest and small raspy coughs spilled out of her mouth. She opened her eyes and winced at the heat. The fire had crawled up the walls and across the ceiling, clinging and dripping from the old wooden beams like a red dragon. 

 

She even thought she could see a face staring down at her. Craggy cheekbones and a jaw like the head of an axe with dark hollows of smoke for eyes. She licked her lips to speak - to curse or cry out - and the taste on her tongue was charcoal. 

 

_ Your protection charms are very pretty, my dear _ , whispered the smoke overhead.  _ But you’ve closed the gate with me inside. _

 

There was a crash from the back room and the fire that circled around Darcy bloomed, chewing away at the floorboards and making her head spin with the heat. There might have been a shout or it might have been the massive crack in the beams above, the groaning as the wood sagged and rained down heavy sparks like fluffy snowflakes made of fire. Darcy dragged herself under the display table but the sparks bit at the back of her hands.

 

The smoke spiraled down from breaking beams, curving through the air like seeking hands.  _ My red flower may never surrender to me…But I have enjoyed the chase. And I will enjoy taking you in her stead.  _

 

Darcy thought she would gladly take Natasha’s place if it meant keeping Thanos away from her aunt’s spirit. From Jane. From Johnny and the boys and the island. And Thanos was smart, too, because nothing would hurt Natasha more. 

 

“Darcy!”

 

It took a moment before the shout registered in Darcy’s head. Everything seemed to be in slow motion; the fire rocking deeper into the room like waves coming in, the slow search of the smoke in the air, the sweat drying on her skin even as it beaded.

 

“Darcy!”

 

“Johnny,” she said but her voice was papery and clumsy, mouth so dry from smoke. 

 

There were voices on the other side of the doorway and through the smoke and the fire Darcy thought she could see a wavering shadow, tall and lanky with shoulders that stretched wide and straight. The vision swirled and before her stood a mountain of a man with a haggard face defined by more lines than a map. But he stood over her like rock, skin the color of purple smoke, one shoulder drooping. His eyes seemed like black hollows.

 

“Darcy!! Where are you?” Johnny was closer and Darcy winced, Thanos flickering and then vanishing in front of her. Johnny cut through the apparition, and there were little whorls of flames sticking to his shoulders and arms, like birds settled on a wire. 

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Darcy said, although there wasn’t any sound coming from her throat. 

 

But Johnny looked down, a crown of fire hanging over his head and little sparks dying out against his skin after burning holes through his t-shirt.

 

“Too late for that, pixie,” he answered, feet kicking up ash as he ran to her. 

 

Everything was stuttering around her, her sight going in and out. Johnny was kneeling in front of her and his normally scorching hands felt comfortingly cool as he pulled her out from under the table, smoke and fire parting around them. 

 

“‘Sides,” he said in her ear. “My girlfriend fireproofed me.”

 

Then he scooped her up off the floor and the world spun and went black.

 

_*

 

She came to on the pavement behind the shop, sitting at the back of an ambulance with a plastic mask over her face filling her nose and mouth with warm and sharply clean air. It pinched at her cheeks and she plucked at the elastic straps until a small pair of hands batted at her from the side.

 

“Leave it.” Jane was sitting just behind her, leaning against a little metal cabinet with another oxygen mask over her face. Her eyes were red and her hair was speckled with ash.

 

“Where’s Johnny?” Darcy asked.

 

Jane nodded across the pavement to where Johnny stood shirtless and annoyed, gray soot combed into his hair where he’d been running his fingers through. A team of EMTs circled him curiously, checking his skin and flashing little lights into his eyes as he rolled them impatiently. When he caught sight of Darcy sitting up from her cot, he pushed through the crowd and rushed across the pavement.

 

Darcy blinked as her eyes watered and blamed her wobbling chin on the oxygen mask.

 

“Darce.” Johnny’s voice was hoarse and Darcy wasn’t sure if it was from smoke or the worry digging lines into his forehead. 

 

He stepped in close and blocked out the smoldering shop building behind him, the gawkers on the sidewalk, the team of firemen and police and emergency squad. Darcy leaned forward even as he bent and pressed his lips to her forehead. He huffed at the smoke and ash in her hair and she took an unsteady breath.

 

“You okay?” he asked. His hands reached for hers and Darcy hissed behind the mask, both of them leaning back. His thumb was resting against a burn on the back of her hand. “Sorry, pixie. But I know this salve that’ll heal you right up.”

 

Darcy pressed her face into Johnny’s chest before he could see the tears and sucked in breaths as she felt his fingers sorting through her tangles. A shadow joined them at Johnny’s side, massive and safe.

 

“They want to take you all to the hospital,” Thor said, steady and soothing. “Steve and Bucky are going to the house to get you changes of clothes.”

 

“I don’t want to,” Jane said, mumbled but stubborn from behind her mask.

 

Darcy could feel Johnny tense against her forehead and pulled back to say, “I do.”

 

Johnny’s fingers carried on with their task and Jane’s set shoulders softened. Thor squeezed gently at Darcy’s shoulder, nodding, before stepping away. 

 

“I’ll let them know,” he said. 

 

The town was visible again as Thor moved away, a cluster of familiar faces standing on tiptoes on the other side of yellow caution tape. Jasper Sitwell was talking with the girl who ran the coffee shop across the street, a little notebook in his hands. It seemed like he was taking his job seriously for once. Pepper Potts stood, staring up at the spiraling smoke, arms crossed over her stomach and hands clutching at her elbows. 

 

And at the very edge of the sidewalk, almost out of sight, Grace Harper stood white-faced and stricken, stunned eyes fixed on Darcy’s face. She jumped in place, as if she’d been caught, and rushed out of sight. 

 

August 17 th ,  2017

 

Darcy tried to resist the tickle of irritation in her chest, instead listening to the beat of Johnny’s heart under her ear. It was warm and humid in the backyard and every deep breath she managed almost felt like a drink of water. The small cough escaped her lips and Johnny twitched on the chaise lounge beneath her.

 

“ _ Stay _ ,” she said, pressing her palm down on his stomach.

 

Johnny huffed and settled. “Staying,” he said, amused.

 

He’d been suffering a need to  _ do something _ ever since the hospital had released Darcy the night before. Helen Cho had let Johnny go after running her tests, baffled by his lack of any injury despite charging through the fire. And Jane, who had been the first out of the shop (her notebooks in hand) had been released not long after. 

 

“Should’ve fireproofed you too,” Johnny mumbled, and his hand rubbed at her back.

 

“I did what I could,” she said, thinking of that protective blue light she’d managed that had helped keep the worst of the smoke out of her lungs. “Has Jane gloated about that working yet?”

 

“Only a little,” Johnny said. “Think she’s just relieved it worked cause it saved you…”

 

“Give it time,” they said in unison and Darcy lifted her head to meet his grin with one of her own. 

 

Gravel stirred under tires on the road past the house and they both twisted in the chaise as small red sedan pulled in next to Johnny’s car. 

 

“Uh oh,” Darcy whispered.

 

Johnny stiffened as Grace Harper emerged, pausing half-out of her car as she met their gaze.

 

“What’s she doing here?” he asked, voice dark.

 

Darcy hadn’t mentioned her suspicions to the others, but she wasn’t surprised to see Grace. Maybe impressed, but not surprised.

 

“Will you go ask Jane to make some tea?” Darcy asked as Grace gathered up her courage and started to the gate.

 

“Why don’t you just say ‘Johnny, go inside’?” he said.

 

“Johnny, go inside,” Darcy said, sitting up and giving his hand a squeeze.

 

He rolled his eyes but stood. “Fine, but I’m spying on you from the kitchen.”

 

“Best boyfriend ever,” she confirmed.

 

Johnny paused, his sunbeam smile growing in surprise. “Huh. Can I get that on a mug or something?”

 

_ You can get anything on a mug _ , Darcy thought. And also,  _ He’s cute _ .  _ I love him _ .

 

Which was its own kind of distraction as Johnny disappeared into the greenhouse to spy on them from behind plants and Grace reached her side. 

 

“Do you want to sit?” Darcy asked.

 

Grace chewed at her lip, fingers rolling over the cuffs of a gray hoodie that was too warm for the weather. 

 

“I wouldn’t have done it,” she said. “I…don’t know why I…I don’t know how…I wouldn’t have done it.” Her eyes were pale and bloodshot and Darcy watched the for a long moment until they started filling up with tears.

 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I know you don’t like me. But I know you don’t want to kill me. Sit down and I’ll explain.”

 

Grace looked up at the sky for a long moment until the tears had vanished and then dragged a wicker chair closer to Darcy. 

 

_ 

 

Johnny had brought tea out and then brownies and been dismissed back into the house both times. Darcy had just finished describing her dreams.

 

“That was how it started,” Grace said.

 

“Dreams?” Darcy asked.

 

“Yeah.” Grace’s gaze went distant focusing on the sunset. “After the festival. They were...I dreamt I was like you.”

 

Darcy caught the surprised dribble of tea spilling from her lips just before it fell off her chin. 

 

“Like me?”

 

Grace turned her face away but Darcy thought she could just make out an eye-roll. “Oh you know...all...magical and-”

 

“Weird,” Darcy finished for her.

 

“Magnetic,” Grace said and then grimaced as if Darcy has dragged it out of her.

 

Darcy tried to put her tea mug down and nearly let it drop to the ground.

 

“I dreamt I was a witch,” Grace said, voice catching. “That this was my island. That you never existed.” She eyed Darcy fidgeting in her seat and turned back to the sunset. “Haven’t wanted that in a long time. And this was just...every night. Every night I was happy, I was...powerful.”

 

“You think that if I-?” Darcy started.

 

“No,” Grace snapped. “No, I know that it was just a fantasy. Now at least I know it wasn’t even really mine. But it just kept coming.” She fussed at the torn knee of her jeans. “And then it was in the daytime too. There was this...other version of me, with me. And she was so angry and so trapped and...It wasn’t me. It was him,” she said, firm.

 

“Yes,” Darcy said. And she she thought that some of that person, that resentment,  _ had _ been Grace. That was how Thanos must have found her. Bitter eyes on Darcy and Johnny at the festival, or around town. It didn’t matter. For the first time, in a long time, Darcy really  _ felt _ like it didn’t matter if Grace Harper hated her.

 

“She felt like me,” Grace said quietly. “She...taught me things.”

 

“He almost got me to drown myself,” Darcy said, as if in consolation. She watched the sun sinking for a moment before the words really settled in her own head. “Grace. What did he teach you?”

  
  


August 18 th 2017

 

Darcy waited until Johnny’s deep breaths evened out and began to pop with the little snuffling snores he made after sex. Her own breath still felt thin in her chest, especially after Johnny had done his best to steal it completely, but she pulled her sweat-sticky skin up from the sheets and tiptoed out of bed. She confiscated Johnny’s t-shirt and boxers and headed for Jane’s room.

 

Thor was snoring on the bed but Darcy could see Jane’s silhouette on the balcony and she joined her there. Natasha was on Jane’s other side, more than a blur and shadow for the first time in weeks. Jane’s hands were wrapped around the bannister and Natasha, the delicate gray outline of her with stars shimmering through her eyes and cheeks, leaned into the other woman’s shoulder.

 

“The solar eclipse,” Jane said. 

 

“I remember,” Darcy said. “It’s only a few days away.”

 

Jane’s lips pressed together and Darcy couldn’t tear her eyes away from Natasha’s small smile, trying to translate its shape. Did she have a crinkle in the corners of her eyes? Was it for sympathy or laughter?

 

“I don’t…I can’t tell how it turns out yet,” Jane said.

 

_ You’ve closed the gate with me inside. _

 

It took Darcy a moment, fear spiking up her spine, to realize that Thanos’s words were only a memory, not the echo of his power influencing her thoughts. 

 

_ When he goes, so will I _ , Natasha said. She curled around Jane’s back and then fit herself between them both. Her touch on Darcy’s elbow was a soft spot of warmth, a little radiant of heat soothing at nerves.

 

“You’re not sacrificing yourself,” Darcy whispered, pleased with how firm she sounded. She would have gone in Natasha’s place. In Jane’s place. Again and again, she would have chosen them first. They would too, of course, which seemed to be a family problem.

 

_ Not if I don’t have to _ , Natasha said, and Darcy read the sly smirk and the equally stubborn stargaze expression on her aunt’s face. It wasn’t really an agreement.  _ But I think…I think he is the end of my story, no matter what. When he is gone, you will both be safe. And you will be loved. That’s all I need. _

 

“That’s stupid,” Jane said, lips turning white between her teeth before she burst out with, “Who’ll watch all the babies Darcy’s bound to start popping out with the way she and Johnny go at it?”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Darcy snapped, as her stomach flipped in surprise. Thor snorted in the bedroom behind them and then went back to his heavy snores.

 

She found Jane’s hand on the banister and their fingers tangled together until Darcy’s knuckles hurt with the grip. But she didn’t let go.

 

Natasha hummed in her head, happy and quiet and seeming peaceful in way that made Darcy’s brittle heart crack and her shoulders soften with relief.

 

_ Steve and Bucky will do fine _ .

 

There was, unfortunately, no arguing with that. So instead Darcy said to Jane, “Don’t you  _ dare _ start prophesying any offspring in the stars or I’ll slip fertility potions in every substance that gets within a half-inch of your lips.”

 

“Shhh,” Jane hissed. “You’ll give Thor’s subconscious ideas.”

 

_ You’ve closed the gate… _

 

“I…” Darcy stalled, thoughts spinning nervously in her head. “I think I have an idea.”

  
  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you endlessly for your patience in waiting for this chapter. I am both happy and sad to say that there's one more chapter after this and then a short and sweet epilogue. But I am more happy to say that I'm about halfway done with that chapter so you should be seeing it soon. Thank you so so so much to every person that made it this far into the story, and for those that didn't I still say thank you but you just...won't see it so it doesn't matter I suppose.
> 
> Feel free to check and see what else I'm doing on tumblr @ragwitch. It's not ALL baking and knitting, I swear. And I do have plans to do some short prompt celebrations soon. 
> 
> I love you I love you I love you  
> Leave me some sugar!


	17. 16. Thanos of Olensk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The solar eclipse arrives. Our story ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is all finished and here is the last chapter! There will be an epilogue up tomorrow evening or early Friday depending on how collapsed I feel after work. I feel strangely sentimental and clumsy about finishing up this story.
> 
> Thank you infinitely to JanetSnakehole who has been holding my hand for like...two years now??? Your patience is phenomenal.   
> Thank you darling bblove bloomsoftly for adopting like the goober stray human being that I am.  
> Thank you to everyone who read this story! I am baffled and flattered and I love you.

 

 

 

August 20 st 2017

 

It started off as a very good day. 

 

They’d put off saying it for so long. And then Johnny stopped her at the counter, slipping his arms around her waist and setting down a cup of coffee with a simple,

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you,” she said, as if she hadn’t fretted over the words for a month or fifteen years.

 

He brushed her hair over her shoulder to kiss her neck as she digested the moment. The sun was shining in the kitchen, Thor was helping Jane trim plants in the greenhouse, and the boys were showering upstairs. She twisted in Johnny’s hold to stare up at his sunbeam smile. Her cheeks hurt so she supposed she must be smiling too. Grinning wide to match him.

 

“I love you,” she repeated.

 

She thought he might crack a jaw with that smile until it quirked and settled and he said, “I thought so.”

 

She snorted and pushed him back, letting their fingers twist together and savoring the fuzzy flutter of happy nerves buzzing through her.

 

“Come to New York with me. I’ll buy your ticket,” he said, tugging her back into his side.

 

“Can’t. Jane and I have the insurance people to deal with.” Johnny wrinkled his nose at this answer and Darcy continued, “Both owners need to be there. Besides, I feel like I should be close right now.”

He combed his fingers through his hair and his brow furrowed. “If you’re worried about Jane, then I’m worried about you.”

 

“I didn’t mean-”

 

“I know. But I can cancel.”

 

“It’s just one day,” Darcy said, looping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his chest.

 

“Given this summer, that doesn’t make me less nervous,” Johnny said, raising his eyebrows. 

 

“I will call if  _ anything _ happens,” she said.

 

Johnny sighed and she knew she’d won. “Still doesn’t make me feel better,” he said. 

 

“I love you?” she offered.

 

His smile flickered back and he grimaced around it in happy irritation.

 

She would pay for that trick later. But he would forgive her too. They had a rhythm going now and Darcy finally felt like she had found her footing.

_

 

“Jane, home,” Darcy called as she shut the door behind her. The house was dark and the floor felt uneven under her feet. There was a shadow stretching down the hall from the warm light of the kitchen. “Bucky and Thor back yet?”

 

Jane’s footsteps were too heavy on the floor, like the gait of a much larger person. 

 

“No, the storm must be keeping them out on the water,” Jane said, voice careful, almost breathy.

 

Darcy conjured a smile for her cousin. “Thor’s the best, they’ll get back safe.”

 

Jane’s eyes tilted down to the floor, her shoulders drooping. “Thanks, I get worried,” she said, still airy and soft.

 

Darcy folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the front door.

 

“Jane does worry, yeah,” Darcy said, tone flat and watched the other woman stiffen. “But not like that. Also, is that your impression of how a woman talks?”

 

Jane straightened in the hall, smirking over her own shoulder so Darcy could see her in profile, see the way the edges of light didn’t quite fit together, something too big stuffed inside the smaller woman.

 

“I admit,” Thanos said from Jane’s lips. “She is not my usual choice of host. But I appreciate her for her proximity to you, dear. To this house, my little red flower’s palace so far out of reach.”

 

“Yeah, I thought you might feel that way,” Darcy said, heart pounding in her chest. “Jane thought so too. So we bound her.”

 

Thanos blinked with Jane’s wide brown eyes, face shifting into a sharp edged frown. Something feral. But Darcy had seen Jane on experimentation bender three days in, she she wasn’t too phased.

 

“Feeling…grounded?” Darcy asked, raising an eyebrow. “…Trapped?”

 

Thanos took a heavy step forward, a delicate hand raised in a claw and then stopped abruptly, body heaving in place as if it had taken a hit.

 

“Or maybe you’re just getting predictable,” Darcy said with a shrug. Thanos snarled at her and she pushed off the door. “I just got off the phone with Bucky and Thor, by the way. They’re on their way back from the docks. Johnny and Steve will have a flight soon. And I’m sure we’ll have a few other visitors before too long.”

 

“Where is  _ she _ ?” Thanos hissed, voice labored as he pushed Jane against her bindings. He could do no harm inside of her. He could go no farther than the bounds of their property. And he could not leave Jane’s body. Darcy had locked the gate with him inside.

 

Darcy walked up to Jane’s side, watched Thanos thrash inside his cage, unable to reach out and inflict whatever harm he was dreaming of. “You won’t be seeing her,” Darcy said against Jane’s cheek. “You won’t ever be seeing her.”

 

A growl rolled up out of Jane’s chest, foreign and too deep to be coming from the small woman’s frame. 

 

“We saw you coming in with that storm out on the sea,” Darcy said. “And she came straight here to meet you.”

 

“You’ve martyred her,” Thanos said, spit popping from Jane’s lips as her shoulders twisted uncomfortably like she was trying to squirm out of her own skin.   

 

Darcy swallowed as footsteps came up the front steps and she stepped back. “I hope not,” she said. 

 

Maybe they had, she thought. Maybe Thanos would win  _ again _ and take Jane with him and…

 

Thor and Bucky walked into the house and Jane promptly fell to the floor with noisy, girlish sobs. 

 

“Thor, Thor please,” she whined, lifting her face to reveal tears streaming down her cheeks and a wobbling bottom lip. “It’s me, it’s me, please. She’s done this, she’s-”

 

Darcy watched Thor pass her, his forehead knotted as he approached Jane crumpled on her knees. He bent slightly, placing his large hand against her hair, soothing it down the side of her face as Jane nuzzled into his palm.

 

“You are not very convincing, are you?” Thor asked. And before Thanos could react, Thor had lifted Jane and thrown her over his shoulder. She was snarling and bucking and screeching as he walked her down the hall back to the kitchen.

 

Bucky sighed heavily at Darcy’s side. “You shouldn’t have waited to tell us,” he said.

 

“I needed to make sure the binding would hold,” Darcy said. 

 

“No, I get your reasoning,” Bucky said. “But you shouldn’t have waited. Johnny’s gonna be mad.”

 

Darcy scrubbed her hands over her face. “I know. I need to go undo my bindings…”

 

Bucky blinked. “You bound yourself too?”

 

“Of course.” She shrugged. “We didn’t know who he’d choose. Hey, be careful in there. Just because he  _ should _ be contained doesn’t mean he’s safe.”

 

Bucky stared down the hall where Jane was still screaming like a banshee from the kitchen. Darcy hadn’t heard sounds like those since their teenage years.

 

“Right,” he said, his shoulders stiffening like he was going into battle. 

 

She bit her lip, wondering if she shouldn’t wait, keep an eye on Thanos herself.  But she trusted Thor with Jane and she trusted Bucky to step in if the sight of a hysterical Jane became too much for the woman’s lover. So she headed upstairs to where Natasha was waiting in her bathroom to guide her through unravelling the bindings.

 

_

 

August 21 st 2017

 

Johnny and Steve arrived with Sue somewhere between the dead of the night and obscenely early. Darcy, Thor, and Bucky were propped up around the kitchen listening to a drugged Jane slur between some old Slavic tongue and violent curses. Darcy had grown tired of the screaming about an hour in and had force fed her cousin a sedative tea. Still, no one had given up their vigil of keeping an eye on the only semi-tamed Thanos.

 

“ _ …Blood running from the seam of your lips… _ ” The words devolved into the foreign tongue as the rest of their party stopped in the kitchen doorway.

 

“He’s been spouting nightmare omens at us for hours,” Darcy said, drooping on the floor against the sink cabinet.

 

Johnny took one look at her and left the kitchen. Darcy let her head thunk back against the wooden door. First ‘I love you’s in the morning. Silent treatment by the night.

 

But he came back a few minutes later with her blanket and pillow and an armload of couch cushions, and made her a bed on the kitchen floor. It had a clear sightline of Jane—strapped down to a kitchen chair, head lolling uncomfortably while her lips shuddered with unconscious nastiness.

 

“Settle in, pixie,” Johnny said, patting the cushions. He kissed her as she reached him and spread the blanket up to her shoulders, sitting down at her knees and slipping her hand into his. 

 

_

 

“What’s Jane doing out in the yard? Suntanning?” Maria asked, arriving in the early morning with two full coffee carriers. She had carpooled with Pepper Potts who had a basket of muffins over her arm and while Darcy doubted the woman had  _ made _ them, she certainly pulled off the look. In a minimal linen sheath dress. Like you do. 

 

Darcy blinked at them both. She was wearing the same clothes as the day before and her hair was sticking up on one side and the couch cushion impressions might not have faded off her face yet.

 

“More or less,” she said, taking a coffee and resisting the urge to ask Maria if she was planning on staying. She had asked Johnny to gather up anyone who was likely to take the situation  _ seriously _ . These two women might not have been on her short list. But who would have? At least Tony wasn’t here. “You’re welcome to go talk to her. No coffee though.”

 

“What? Is she… fasting or something?” Maria asked, brow wrinkling.

 

“Or something,” Darcy said taking the coffee carriers and ushering Pepper back to the kitchen where the rest of their makeshift group was gathering. 

 

Maria headed out to the backyard.

 

“How did the insurance meeting go?” Pepper asked.

 

“As well as can be expected. They’re putting it up to faulty wiring,” Because they couldn’t find any other explanation. “And our online orders are being very understanding. It’s a hit, but one we can weather. Our kitchen here is getting checked for code next week.” Provided Thanos had been defeated.

 

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Pepper said and Darcy smiled politely. “We have a couple available storefronts you might be able to set up a temporary shop in. I’d waive the rent for some product,” Pepper added with a wicked little smile.

 

Darcy stared up at her for a long moment. She and Jane had gotten a lot of ‘let us know’s in the past week. This was the first offer that was actually backed up with something concrete they could use.

 

“Thank you,” she said, and her voice seemed too tired and weak to really express the words.

 

“Of course,” Pepper said with a shrug. She squeezed Darcy’s shoulder and passed her into the kitchen. 

 

It was a motley crew gathering. Reed had come in an hour before after dropping the kids off with his mother and brought Ben Grimm with him. Helen Cho was standing in her pantry, sniffing at Jane’s dried herbs and supposedly Sam Wilson would be here after dropping their daughter off at school.  _ Grace Harper _ was on her way. 

 

Now Darcy knew for certain the house had never been so full. 

 

Maria came into the kitchen through the greenhouse, face pale. She stopped at the threshold and scanned the room, eyes landing on Darcy. 

 

“What the hell is that?” she asked, arm pointing limply back into the yard. 

 

Darcy could just see the edge of the chair where Jane was contained. Steve was on the greenhouse steps keeping an eye on her. Thor had an eyeline from the kitchen table, Bucky at his side. But it had been a long night. And none of them were so eager to get close to Thanos’s vitriol-spitting mouth again.

 

“That is who was responsible for the scene at the docks during the festival, and my night of sleepwalking, and the fire at the shop,” Darcy said.

 

“Is Jane ill?” Helen asked, brow furrowing.

 

“She’s possessed.” 

 

Grace Harper was coming in from the hall and Darcy twisted in place to block Johnny at her back. 

 

“What’s she doing here?” he whispered.

 

Grace cocked her head to the side as she stared back at Darcy and then said, “I kind of assumed it’d be you in the chair.”

 

Johnny’s hands on her sides twitched but Darcy was too tired to take offense. Or maybe she agreed.

 

Grace had only managed contrition for as long as it took Darcy to outline what she and Jane needed to do. And then Grace had simply been cooperative. And surprisingly helpful. And a little bit terrifying if Darcy was being honest. It occurred to her that if Grace hadn’t been shocked and appalled by the fire at the Lab, by her part in it, Thanos would have had another dangerously potent ally on his team.

 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Darcy said with a half smile and Grace’s lips twitched before she wove her way into the room, settling in the pantry doorway by Helen.

 

“Possession,” Maria repeated, with a raised eyebrow. But her gaze flicked to to the yard. And then to the other occupants of the room. Pepper made a little accommodating tilt of the head and Maria looked back to Darcy. “Okay.”

 

She didn’t sound convinced. But she didn’t look ready to argue with her on the topic. Yet.

 

The front door opened again and Natasha was at Darcy’s side.

 

_ Thirteen _ , she said.  _ They’re all here. _

 

Thirteen people. Thirteen people and Jane holding Thanos. A coven’s dozen. Three had always been their number. Natasha, Jane and Darcy. Three women working together in a harmony born out of family and a wealthy inheritance of power. And now, with Jane  _ occupied _ and Natasha ethereal, it was just Darcy. Darcy and twelve people. Half of whom at least  _ believed _ in what was happening. And half who had come out of…curiosity? Goodwill?

 

Well it was still a few good hours before they had to start. That gave Darcy some time to…to train twelve people in the art of the ritual.

 

Sam Wilson entered the kitchen and looked around the group, his eyes going wide. “Hey,” he said, and after a long pause, “Nice kitchen island.”

 

“Thanks for coming, Sam,” Johnny said.

 

And then everyone looked at Darcy.

 

“So what exactly are we doing here?” Maria asked.

 

“Well…That’s…that’s going to take a while to explain,” Darcy said, voice wobbling. Johnny’s hand squeezed at her side and Natasha was stirring and shifting. “But first…first I just need you to believe that…that any of this has a basis in reality, I suppose. So I’m going to show you something.”

 

She held out her hand to Natasha. Sue was standing just a few feet past and she shifted, brow furrowing as she met Darcy’s gaze as if asking if the hand was some offer to her. But then Natasha’s fingers, wispy soft breezes, settled into Darcy’s grip. 

 

She shivered and leaned into Johnny’s side as her breath caught. Natasha met her gaze and Darcy felt the tug of energy, her skin going clammy. The room took a collective inhale as Natasha’s edges hardened and her colors deepened.

 

“This is my aunt Natasha,” Darcy said, smiling and pretending that her voice was thin because of the energy transfer and not because it always felt so good to  _ see _ Natasha. She added, for good measure, “She’s a ghost.”

 

_

 

There was a stack of cellphones on the kitchen island, shut down with dark screens. Helen and Sue and Pepper were helping Steve pick herbs in the greenhouse while the others were running over Darcy’s written list of the ritual. Maria was silently practicing a chant, brow twisted skeptically as she tried to wrap her tongue around an old slavic word, unaware as Natasha whispered helpfully in her ear. 

 

Johnny and Thor came in from hauling out the old wooden bathtub from the cellar to where Jane was hoarsely caterwauling on the lawn. They met her at the cauldron. Thor had a knot in his forehead that had been there since before he’d left Jane the morning before. Darcy wasn’t sure how much Jane had told him, or if Thor was simply more intuitive than he let on.

 

“Is this going to work?” Johnny asked and Thor flinched.

 

“Jane will be herself by the end,” Darcy said. She met Thor’s eyes and spoke with as much firm certainty as she could press into her words, “That’s a guarantee.”

 

Thor’s shoulders eased a fraction and he nodded, lowering his eyes. 

 

Darcy leaned and Johnny was there, his arm curving warmly over her shoulder. “I don’t know if Thanos will be…gone,” she admitted. “Permanently. I don’t know what state he’s actually in. But if we don’t… if this isn’t over today, I should at least have a better idea of what to do next.”

 

She needed it to be over. Natasha was rallying for her and Jane, but her aunt was fading. Darcy wanted to dig her fingers into whatever thin fragments of Natasha were left on this earth and  _ ground them.  _ Save them. But as much as she refused to listen to the words, she knew that Natasha’s remaining spirit was what tethered Thanos. And Jane and Darcy, their struggle of acceptance and love and having a  _ home _ was what tethered Natasha.

 

Steve squeezed in between Darcy and Thor, scattering handfuls of herbs into the cauldron and pressing a quick, light kiss to Darcy’s hair as he left. Thor’s hand squeezed briefly at her shoulder before heading out the greenhouse doors to stand vigil over Jane. Johnny’s arms wrapped loosely around her stomach as she stirred in the additions.

 

She glanced over her shoulder and watched the crowded room weave and work around each other. The sanctuary of the house suddenly full of new energies that bounced off one another and blended in a noisy, cluttered kind of harmony.

 

“If you had asked I could have found you another thirteen people to come here and help,” Johnny said in her ear. “Not one of them asked why.”

 

“Are you telling me I’ve been wrong about the island this whole time?” Darcy asked, but there was no heat in the words.

 

“I’m telling you…” he hummed for a moment, going over his words. “I guess I’m starting to think that the best way of teaching the island how to accept you is to…”

 

“Teach them how to exorcise a horrible witch’s influence from my cousin?” she asked, fighting a smile.

 

“You know what I mean,” Johnny said.

 

She nodded. “I do.”

 

“I love you,” they said.

 

_

 

It was far too hot out for this kind of work, Darcy thought. Jane, trapped to the kitchen chair, was flushed red with the heat and possibly burnt from the sun. Her hair was damp, thin strands sticking to her face in strange directions from all of her thrashing. She snarled, teeth snapping in Steve’s direction as he helped Bucky and Thor drag her inside of the circle. A circle, practically a coven, of neighbors Darcy had never once considered doing any kind of ceremony with. Of even telling them about rituals. 

 

But now Grace Harper was lighting candles around a wide ring of her backyard and Pepper Potts was pouring clean seawater into the herbal bath Darcy and Steve had made. Maria Hill was standing next to Ben Grimm, taking his rough hand firmly in hers and ignoring the slightly dazzled expression he was giving her. Darcy looked again and realized that, no, the woman wasn’t ignoring it. She was preening—almost so slightly you couldn’t see it, with a small lift of her chin and a twist in her lips—under Ben’s gaze. 

 

“The longer you trap me in her, the less of your cousin remains,” Thanos hissed, Jane’s voice ragged from most of a day’s vocal wrath. Darcy didn’t answer. There was a shattered scream from Jane’s throat as the chair sank into the the wooden bathtub. The water bubbled dangerously for a moment and then swirled restlessly around Jane’s legs, the leg of her pants darkening as the moisture soaked in.

 

“Close the circle,” Darcy said, urgent as she stepped forward and knelt in front of the bath. Jane’s bindings were loosening under Thanos’s strain and the banishing influence of the solar eclipse layered with the new moon. The timing was too precise for the ritual and it made her heart thump nervously. 

 

“You think you can hex me into oblivion, little witch? I will take her with me. I will find my sweet red flower here, I can smell her on you,” Thanos ranted and then stopped abruptly as Reed and Bucky joined hands.

 

Darcy felt it in her chest as the circle closed, as if the world had been sideways for so many years and suddenly settled itself back to flat again. She glanced around her in surprise. It was an odd collection of people, some of whom she barely knew and yet…the circle was balanced.

 

“That was-” Helen’s eyes were bright, excited. 

 

“Start the chant,” Bucky said.

 

“We bind our circle with the strength of the earth,

We bind our circle with the beat of our breathing,

We bind our circle with the heat of the flame,

We bind our circle with the crash of the waves.”

 

It was clumsy at first, with Bucky and Steve and Grace carrying the words for the others. But in bits and pieces it came together until the chorus of voices drowned out the cursing from Jane’s lips. Darcy could pick up the threads from every person. Reed’s cold dart of air versus Helen’s curious breeze and Thor’s gathering wind. Steve’s heavy tide against Pepper’s bubbling flow and Ben’s fathomless well. Johnny’s blaze burning across from Grace’s simmering coals and Sue’s protective hearth. Bucky’s burrowing roots and Maria’s immovable mountain, and Sam’s easy green growth. 

 

It was as much a surprise as a confirmation of the people she had known  _ of _ but not  _ known _ for most of her life.

 

Meanwhile Thanos was settling in front of her even as the water in the tub swirled faster around Jane’s legs. There was a tangle of anger in the other woman’s eyes that was so strong it made Darcy want to crawl away. But her body was sagging in the seat and her head was starting to loll.

 

Darcy hands slammed down over the hemp ropes that bound Jane’s arms to the chair. 

 

“You’re not taking her,” Darcy said, pressing power into the words, drawing more from the circle around her as they chanted.

 

Thanos had flooded Jane’s body. Darcy skimmed the edges of him, squatting in Jane’s body and in her mind, expanding and encompassing until she could find no trace of her cousin. There was a flicker, a curl of slippery and snagging sensation at Darcy’s wrist and she yanked herself away before Thanos could get a grip on her.

 

The words died and settled around the circle as the sky shifted above them, the faintest gray-green tinge spreading in the sky.

 

“It’s starting,” Bucky said just as Thanos shuddered in the chair and the water sloshed in the bath as if the whole thing had been kicked.

 

“Keep going,” Darcy said.

 

“We call upon air for swift endings,

We call upon fire, to burn away darkness,

We call upon water, to wash away cruelty,

We call upon earth, to hold and bury.”

 

Jane groaned and her eyes fluttered, rolling eerily beneath her lids. The circle around them was creating a thin bubble of power, something that wavered in the air like steam. It was enough to settle a weight over Thanos, over Jane by extension, but Darcy could see the way it might only amount to pressure and pain for her cousin. And not a resolution. She glanced at Johnny and found him watching her. Whatever he read in her face made the knot of concentration on his forehead deepen into a scowl. But he nodded. Not in permission, since that wasn’t something Darcy was about  _ ask _ for, but in acceptance. 

 

“You’re not taking her,” Darcy repeated in a hiss, leaning in close to Jane’s face. Brown eyes, slitted and bloodshot with the heat, sparked against Darcy’s gaze.

 

“Careful, little ved’ma, or you’ll kill us both,” Thanos rattled out, barely lifting Jane’s chin.

 

“You’re seriously underestimating her,” Darcy whispered. Then her fingers caught at the knots in the rope, Thanos jerking under her touch. Weak nibbles of irritated and caged power nipped at her fingers as she worked and Thor and Bucky’s voices stumbled as she dragged Jane’s body out of the chair, letting it sag into the bath of spelled purification water.

 

Thanos screeched and thrashed like a cat until Darcy tossed the chair out of the water and pushed Jane’s body back down into the water, climbing in after her. Thanos’s scream turned into a cackle as the water surged as if it had the weight of an ocean behind it, grasping at her waist like a grasping arm. 

 

“We’ll all go together,” he growled.

 

“Then I deserve to see your face,” Darcy said. And then with every synapse in her brain and cell in her body and every bit of focus she had struggled to tame growing up under Natasha’s gentle tutelage, she  _ pressed in _ . 

 

It was like a beam of light running up against the densest smoke. There was no illumination cutting through the darkness, only the sudden absorption of clarity into black fog. She was in the middle of the circle, a wall of strength building around her, and then she was lost. Thanos was a black hole and Darcy had thrown herself in, had sacrificed Jane to be erased by this. 

 

There was a sense of gravity, of falling through emptiness. Or maybe the feeling of something being dragged over her, not sinking into the hole but of the hole rising up around to contain her. She was soaking in a ink so black it would transform all her shape and color into nothing. She had come here to vanish.

 

Which was…

 

Not right.

 

She had come here to…to  _ see him _ . To see Thanos, see what was really left of him, this giant of a man who had haunted Natasha, had scratched and scrambled through time and space to torture what was left of her on this Earth. 

 

_ Jane _ .

 

She had come here to save Jane.

 

And Thanos had let her in. Either too confident to see her as a threat, or too weak to stop her. 

 

So Darcy relaxed, locating the terror in her thoughts and untangling it into thin threads and then brushing them away. She found the panic in her muscles and uncoiled it until the sensation of falling settled and passed. The roar in her ears hushed into the whisper of quiet and the deep gasp of unsteady breaths. The black faded to gray and the gray began to take on shape around her.

 

The room was smokey, clogged up with incense and candle wicks snapping and spitting heat into the cramped space. It reminded Darcy of a cellar, or a mausoleum, with arched walls of stone and floors that seemed more dirt than floorboard. There were two narrow windows covered in grease and soot across from Darcy that let in a dim but scarlet light. There were three figures kneeling on the floor, supplicants or statues it was hard to tell for how still they held themselves. Their hands were braced on the frame of a low platform. For a moment Darcy thought they were praying to a crumpled pile of rags. 

 

And then the rags gasped and Darcy saw the impression of a body, a map of brittle bones draped in a patchwork of fabrics.

 

“She…is…here,” a voice like a creaking door said from the bed. 

 

Darcy braced herself, waiting for a strike. From the frail creature on the bed that simmered and boiled with magic. From the three people who fed the turmoil of power with a blank focus. She moved closer, up to the shoulder of an old man on the floor who seemed almost near sleeping except for the subtle twitch of his head as she stopped behind him.

 

Thanos was on the bed.

 

_ Just an old man _ , he growled in her head. It was the voice of the man from seventy years ago. Not the broken note of the body on the bed.

 

He looked like a deconstructed man. Something made out of wax. A thin covering over the skeleton form of a body unbuilt.

 

He had turned Loki near mad, pulled birds from the sky and slithered into Darcy’s and Grace’s dreams. He was the most powerful thing Darcy had ever seen. But he  _ was _ just a frail old man. She had wondered how he could be anything else, and wondered how someone who  _ must _ be withering away could do so much awful. 

 

“Do you expect me to feel bad for you?” Darcy asked.

 

She imagined the rattle that sounded around her was laughter but it could just as easily have been a warning bell. 

 

_ Do you expect me to give up and die?  _ He asked.

 

Oh, how nice that would be, Darcy thought.

 

_ Did you gather your dozen novices and expect them to measure up against my best pupils? _

 

“I expected them to keep Jane safe,” Darcy said.

 

The cavernous face on the bed rolled toward her, eyes sunken in and shining wet and red in her direction, blue gray skin turned violet in the sinking sunlight.  _ Then you expect to best me yourself. _

 

“I came to make a deal.”

 

The air rattled again, and this time she was sure it was with satisfaction. There was an accompanying wheeze from the bed.

 

_ Giving up the dead for the living. _

 

“Do you believe in it, the  _ pesnya dushi _ ?” There was a long pause so Darcy added. “Do you believe that it destinies you to be with her? Natasha.”

 

_ Yesssss _ , hissed the voice in her head.

 

“She’s already dead,” Darcy said.

 

Thanos’s body coughed, or maybe scoffed, from the bed.  _ Our souls will entwine in the afterlife. You know this. You have found your partner. _

 

Darcy felt a warm bud of love for Johnny. “I chose him,” she said and the old man coughed again so she repeated it, “I chose him. He was always going to shape my life. As you shaped Natasha’s. But  _ I _ chose him. Do you think I’m wrong?”

 

_ I think you’re naive…and hopeful. _

 

“I think I’m right,” Darcy said. “But I understand that you  _ are  _ a very old man. So you’ll assume you know better. Would you like to find out?” He was quiet and this time Darcy waited.

 

_ Does she know? _

 

“She’s there, watching,” Darcy said. 

 

_ And she trusts your scheme? Believes she will be free of me? _

 

“Honestly, I’m not sure that matters to her,” Darcy said, a horrible burning ache in her chest. “She wants us safe. But I trust my scheme, or I wouldn’t be here giving you this choice. Give up this…” she hesitated over the word, “Life? Release Jane. Natasha is ready to pass on.”

 

Thanos sighed on the bed, a wisp of breath, and the three kneeling men held their position. They looked almost as old as their master and Darcy wondered how they would get up from the floor without any help. Were there others waiting? Did Thanos generate this semblance of life with shifts of people pumping magic into him day and night?

 

“Leave…us…” The words came with pauses so long between them that they felt almost unrelated. But first one man on the floor stirred, and then another. Slowly, carefully, with what Darcy imagined were bitten off groans of discomfort, the men rose from the floor and turned their haggard faces to the space behind Darcy, passing around and almost through her until the room was empty.

 

She was over the bed and there were milky white and bloodshot eyes rolling in their sockets, searching for her.

 

_ Hurry _ ,  _ your cousin is fading _ .

 

Darcy plunged forward with her thoughts, gripping at the strings and flickers of life left in Thanos and then dragged them both out of the vision and…

 

…She sat up in the water of the bath, gasping. Jane was kicking in her hands and there was a hurricane of water around them. The color of the sky had turned stranger overhead, bright and dim all at once, some cross between the yellow of after a storm and the gray of dawn and the crimson of sunset. Outside of the torrent the wavering figures of the circle stood tall, their shapes twisted and magnified by the gate of wild water.

 

“Darcy!” Jane twisted in her hands, eyes wide and startled, face blurred by the superimposed smear of Thanos that trailed her movements like a delayed image tracing after. There was a glimmer of a face like rock with sharp eyes, and then another slower glimpse of the withered body from the bed on the other side of the world. 

 

“Where is she?” Thanos asked, sneering at the shield around them.

 

“You’re still bound,” Darcy said, almost having to shout over the whooshing roar.

 

“ _ Where is she?” _ He repeated.

 

Darcy tightened her grip on Jane’s arm with one hand and raised the other, running her fingers through the water around them like a knife. It rained down into the bath with a loud splash and the voices of the circle stuttered as they reappeared, soaked and ruffled. Johnny stepped forward and then was pulled back again by Thor and Helen. Natasha stood at the side of the bath and Jane went still in Darcy’s hand for a long moment. Then she roared and surged up and Darcy heaved herself forward, tackling her cousin’s body back into the water. 

 

Thanos stretched at his bonds and Maria gasped as he seemed about to pull free of the cage of Jane’s skin, like some kind of immaterial alien bursting forth. Darcy shook at Jane’s shoulders and he settled into place again. 

 

Natasha was clear as crystal, somehow vanishing in the eerie light of the growing eclipse and somehow sharpening at the edges. Darcy could almost have imagined making an outline of the space she occupied in the yard, could almost pretend that her aunt was casting a shadow on the grass.

 

“You wasted your life hiding from me,” Thanos spit up at her.

 

_ I wasted nothing. You wasted your life searching for me _ , Natasha said. 

 

“There is no hell. No heaven,” Thanos said, Jane’s teeth snapping with the words. “We are going to the same place at the end of today.” 

 

_ Maybe _ .

 

“Natasha,” Darcy whispered, heart thumping too heavy in her chest. 

 

Natasha’s sheer gaze landed on her, smile faint but full.  _ Maybe _ , she repeated and a breeze of airbrushed at Darcy’s cheek, smelling sweet from the garden and salty from the sea.

 

“You have tarried Thanos of Olensk,” Thor said, voice low and heavy with authority. 

 

Thanos yanked at Darcy’s grip on Jane’s arms but Darcy held on.

 

“Ya izgonyayu tebya,” Darcy and Thor said together. “Pass on.”

 

Thanos tried to growl but Jane’s mouth twisted and then pressed shut, trapping the sound. The water in the tub began to steam and sting at Darcy’s skin.

 

“You have tarried Thanos of Olensk,” the circle said in unison. “My izgonyayem vas. Pass on.”

 

“Enough!” Thanos managed to shout through Jane’s lips before she made a strangling sound, sagging against Darcy and whimpering. “Please,” she begged. “Please stop.”

 

“You have tarried Thanos of Olensk,” Darcy whispered in her cousin’s ear as the chant built up around them. “My izgonyayem vas. Pass on.”

 

“Stop!” Jane screeched, wrestling for control in Darcy’s tight embrace. Their legs slipped in the water, knees sliding out and water splashing into their faces. “Stop it!” screamed Jane as the bath bubbled, a horrible heat building in the stirring current.

 

“You have tarried Thanos of Olensk,” said the circle.

 

“It’s almost over, it’s almost over,” Darcy promised. Her hands slipped over Jane’s back and their cheeks pressed together felt warm enough to start a fire.

 

_ My izgonyayem vas. Pass on.  _ Natasha’s words made the air rush around them. 

 

“She’s coming with me!” Thanos snarled. Jane’s legs wrapped around Darcy’s body and threw them to the side. Darcy’s elbow and the back of her head smacked against the frame of the too tight tub, and then Jane’s hands were trying force her down into the water. 

 

“Darcy!” Johnny shouted from the circle.

 

“You have tarried Thanos of Olensk,” Darcy said, spitting water as she spoke, the taste of rosemary and sagebrush and juniper burning and bitter on her tongue. 

 

“My izgonyayem vas. Pass on,” the circle continued and Johnny stayed in line. 

 

“She’s coming with me,” Thanos said, his borrowed hands around Darcy’s throat.

 

“Maybe,” Darcy said, voice tight. She stared up at the strange and brilliant light of the shadowed sun overhead. “Maybe not.”

 

Thanos stretched his shape inside of Jane again and the hands at Darcy’s throat loosened. His face twisted away from Jane’s and he made a soundless scream up at the sun, face tearing into a deep wince at what he saw.

 

_ Unbind her _ , Natasha said as the circle carried the chant.  _ It’s time. _

 

Darcy reached up for Jane’s wrists, felt the little knot of power over her pulse and loosened them. Jane started pull away and there were phantom hands that remained, large and gray and knotted with age. Darcy repeated the same at Jane’s neck, at the top of her head, at the base of her spine, until Jane was leaning away, panting against the side of the tub. The ghost of Thanos remained, pinning Darcy to the floor of the tub, his edges ragged as the light of the eclipse overhead shone through him. 

 

“You have tarried Thanos of Olensk,” Jane whispered, voice raw and panting for breath.

 

_ You have not saved her _ , Thanos rumbled in Darcy’s head.

 

“You were never going to follow the deal,” Darcy said. There was no pressure on her throat now but she could feel his grip in her chest, making breath come thin and short. 

 

He grinned above her, or snarled, or opened his jaws wide to swallow her whole, but the distorted sun tore through the open maw and widened the brilliant gash of light. 

 

Darcy took a gasping breath and Jane took her hands in a tight grip. The moon layered over the sun and the island shuddered beneath them and an enormous wave of power ran in a spiral around the circle. It was power made of the light above them, and the sea surrounding them, and a strange kind of safety Darcy had never imagined finding with the group of people that stood guard over her family. It kicked up the air and leaves and grass around them and she could see it pass over every face in the circle. The feeling, the  _ knowing _ , of magic. The race in the heart and the drumming beat in the blood and the spinning in the head. The feeling of running down the hill, your feet too fast to command beneath you. The wondering if the rush would ever slow.

 

It slowed. Thanos vanished first in shades, and then in the bitter smell like a blown fuse passing out of the air.

 

The water in the bath settled and cooled against Darcy’s raw skin and she released a relieved little moan, sinking back against the wall of the tub, chin bobbing in the water.

 

“Darce?” Johnny said. 

 

“He’s gone,” Jane said, her own head dropping backwards over the wooden edge.

 

Darcy’s skin ached like a burn and Jane’s knee was pressing sharply against her spine, but she was certain she wouldn’t be moving in the next few minutes.

 

“I’m okay,” Darcy said, answering Johnny’s actual question. “Settle in. We need to stay here until the eclipse is over.”

 

Everyone held still for too long and Darcy scanned their faces. Half of them were pale and shocked and the others looked hungry with curiosity. Johnny and Thor looked like they were itching, mad with wanting to break the circle.

 

“Sit,” Darcy said, uncertain if she felt amused or irritated or absurdly touched. Jane snorted.

 

One by one they sat. Natasha too, kneeling at the side of the tub. She reached a gossamer hand into the water and Darcy sighed as it turned pleasantly cool against her feverish skin.

 

“Don’t go,” Jane whispered.

 

“You don’t have to,” Darcy said. “He’s gone. You’re safe.”

 

_ You’re safe _ , Natasha echoed gently.  _ It’s time for me to go. _

 

“You’re safe,” Darcy said, flinching at the tears gathering in her eyes. “So stay.”

 

_ Only until the moon passes _ , Natasha said. 

 

“Please,” breathed Jane.

 

_ Ghosts have unfinished business, little ved’mas, and now I have none. _

 

Darcy could see Grace Harper through Natasha, eyes lowered to the ground, hands held loosely by Maria and Pepper wearing smooth and sympathetic expressions.

 

_ You have something here,  _ Natasha said,  _ and it is more than I could have dreamed of for you. Let it fill up the corners of this house. Of the island. The greatest part of me will always remain with you _ .

 

Darcy couldn’t speak, her chest and throat and tongue glued shut by emotion, by the exposure of their audience, and being overwhelmed with the day. But she refused to close her eyes and lose any remaining time with her aunt. So she soaked in the bath, Jane settling into her side so they could hold each other, and she let the tears spill. 

 

_

 

Natasha passed on in silence, sunlight cutting through the red of her hair, her smile lasting until the end.

 

_

 

Johnny found her sitting on her bed in front of her window, rubbing burn cream into the pink and sore skin of her legs. 

 

“We can ask the others to leave,” he said from the doorway.

 

Darcy reached her arm out behind her and she sighed as he came up to the bed and settled against her back. Downstairs, Tony was exclaiming  _ loudly _ how full of shit he thought they all were as they recounted the day to him. 

 

“They need this,” Darcy said. “You’ve got to unwind after a ritual and this was…a doozy. Is Jane working?”

 

“I can’t tell if she’s baking or brewing potions but whatever it is, Thor is nearly tripping her while trying to help,” Johnny said. His arms were circling cautiously around her and Darcy eased the way by snuggling in tighter. 

 

“She needs this too,” Darcy said.

 

“But if you need them to clear out…”

 

“It’s not that, I just…” she wasn’t sure what exactly.

 

Johnny kissed down the side of her face, gentle and soft. “You need processing time.”

 

She bristled for a moment. Johnny didn’t tense this time and when she twisted in his hold she found him smiling, something small and mischievous like he was waiting for her correction.

 

She  _ did _ need processing time. “You think you know me that well now, huh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

He grinned. “I dunno. Do I?”

 

She tried to bury her smile. But he was looking pleased with himself so she was probably failing. “I love you,” she said, just to throw him off a little.

 

Sure enough his eyes grew big and his grin bubbled into something giddy and loose. And the feeling echoed in her heart. 

 

“Love you too, pixie,” he said. “You want me to go get you a brownie?”

 

“No,” she said, turning till she was twisting in his lap. She nipped at his smile with her lips and teeth and said, “I’ll get myself one…in a little bit.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *goes and hides under some blankets cause NERVES MAN*
> 
> see you soon with the epilogue! leave me some sugar if you have any to spare.
> 
> (All the chants and spells are mine. The russian in them is "I/we banish you." Olensk is a Russian town that was renamed in the mid 19th century. Making Thanos old as dirt, basically.)


	18. Epilogue - A Ghost Story Ends Sweetly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flail* You're all amazing and I am just whomped on the floor with happiness from your comments. WHOMPED. I'm going to answer them shortly but I am pre-coffee right now and basically drooling.
> 
> Thank you to JanetSnakehole for being bestestbetabud.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you thank you for reading this!

October 5 th , 2017

 

Maria Hill passed Darcy the other end of a string of fairy lights and together they hung them in front of the dark patterned curtains that made the Fortune Teller’s tent. Behind them the activity Odd Fellow’s hall reached a crescendo as all of the animatronic ‘hauntings’ went off at the same time while Tony Stark cackled like a mad scientist behind the control panel. Bucky and Sam, both victims of the robotic werewolves they had been setting up, flipped the other man off in unison.

 

Sarah Ryan, the local elementary principal, approached Darcy’s tent like a skittish cat, jumping as she caught Darcy’s eye and then hurrying forward.

 

“I really appreciate you and your sister putting so much work into our fundraiser,” Sarah said. 

 

Jane was at the other side of the hall, arranging a station for kids to make herbal bath teas or Dark (chocolate) Magic Brownies with their parents. Darcy had a feeling she knew which would be more popular. 

 

“We were happy to help,” Darcy said. 

 

Which was mostly true. They had been happy to help once Pepper and Grace and Helen and Maria had all made it clear that it wasn’t really up to them. “We’ve been adopted by the PTA,” Jane had said somberly after getting off the phone with Maria. 

 

“About the…readings you’ll be doing,” Sarah Ryan said after clearing her throat nervously a few times.

 

Maria paused in her meticulous arranging of a set of crystals around the tea table. Darcy watched her lips purse and her eyes narrow on the school principal.

 

“I have a special set of cards,” Darcy said before Sarah could dig herself a hole or Maria could start one for her. “They’re simplified, and very friendly.”

 

“Perfect!” Sarah said, overly bright. “That’s perfect! Great. Okay.”

 

Maria sighed, heavily, and Sarah Ryan found a reason to be somewhere else.

 

“This island,” Maria said with a roll of her eyes. 

 

“I don’t mind if I make them a  _ little _ nervous,” Darcy admitted and the other woman laughed. 

 

“I have a present for you.”

 

Darcy spun and found Johnny and Ben at the curtained entrance of her tent. Johnny was carrying a box wrapped in red and gold paper under his arm. Ben was inching closer to an amused Maria.

 

“Hang up this lantern for me,” Maria said, passing Ben a decorative lamp that she could have easily hung herself.

 

“What’s the occasion?” Darcy asked, taking the box from Johnny, the weight of it surprising her.

 

“Me being the best boyfriend ever,” Johnny said, grinning. 

 

She had bought the mug but hadn’t given it to him. Which didn’t stop him quoting her at every opportunity. 

 

“Hmm,” she answered, wrinkling her nose. But she ripped through the paper all the same and opened the white box inside. Her reflection, warped across the sphere, stared back at her. 

 

“It’s a crystal ball,” Johnny said as Darcy lifted it free.

 

There was a simple wooden stand still inside the box carved and darkly stained, but Darcy set that aside to admire the globe in her hands. It was heavy and perfectly round with an almost unnoticeable glimmer of color running through it. It felt warm in her hands, instead of cool, and it seemed to carry some kind emotional residue of…love.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Darcy said, blinking. “You made it.”

 

“Uhh I did, yeah. Will it work? If not, is it…is an decorative crystal ball kosher?” Johnny said, shifting in step at her side, his hands drifting from elbows to pockets to the back of his neck.

 

Darcy leaned into him and he stilled. “It will work,” she said, feeling stunned by his work, by his ability to charge this glass with his feelings for her, by him.

 

“You could use it tomorrow night at the fair, if you want,” he said, returning her closeness, wrapping an arm around her.

 

“No, this should be personal,” Darcy said. “It’s too…it means too much.” She looked up and found him blushing. “I love it.”

 

“Okay. Good.” And he grinned.

 

“It’s a full moon tonight,” she said and his grin widened. “I’ll charge it in the window.”

 

“How soon can we leave?” Johnny asked, and Ben snorted behind them.

 

_

 

Maria took over finishing Darcy’s booth with Ben. (Darcy and Johnny were pretty sure that they were dating and the only person who hadn’t realized yet was Ben.) Johnny left his car behind for Steve and Bucky to drive and together they walked back to the house by the island park trails. Darcy stopped at each of the hand blown witch balls they had made—innocently decorating the island’s perimeter—and checked the wards and renewed the protective energy.

 

Nothing was interrupted. The island was safe again. But it felt good to check. 

 

Johnny followed her up to her room and watched Darcy crawl up her bed to set the crystal ball on its stand in her windowsill.

 

“This means a lot. You know that, right?” Darcy asked. 

 

Johnny had made  _ magic _ for her. She could feel it spinning around the surface of the glass. It kissed at her fingertips and made her bedroom feel warm and safe.

 

“That was the idea,” he said and she looked back to see him tucking his smile away and shucking his shoes to the floor. “Have I mentioned how much I like full moons?”

 

Darcy smiled and folded her legs underneath her, reaching up to undo the buttons on her blouse.  “I had noticed,” she said.

 

“You tired?” he asked. “Want a bath?”

 

She shook her head. “Maybe later. I’m just a little worn down. Got ideas for that?”

 

Johnny hummed and grinned, shucking off his t-shirt with a shrug and then coming to join her on the bed. He leaned in, pushing gently at her shoulders until she was laying back. It was too early in the evening for moonlight but Darcy thought she might like the sunset fire colors burning over Johnny’s skin even better. His hair was lit up orange like the first moment she had seen him and she reached up to run her fingers through the strands. 

 

“Lemme take care of you, pixie,” he said, fingers loosening buttons as his mouth set small, damp fires lighting down her neck and across her chest.

 

“I will,” she murmured, voice trailing off with an excited sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KISSES KISSES KISSES KISSESONYERFACE.


End file.
